|
I remember coming out of that tunnel mouth |
|
Singing high and in the water, |
|
Spring and sing before us |
|
The palms hung like reconsidered suicides |
|
From the red ponds of mountain sides |
|
Preserved as a lion was preserved in stars |
|
This was a long time ago |
|
The echos were turning slow |
|
The echos were turning slow |
|
It doesn't matter, It doesn't matter |
|
The echos were turning slow |
|
It doesn't mater |
|
It doesn't mater |
|
The echos were turning slow |
|
It doesn't mater |
|
It doesn't mater |
|
It drives before my lips close |
|
It doesn't mater |
|
It doesn't mater |
|
My gift to you was a lake of tears, |
|
What a day for 8 long years |
|
My gift to you was a lake of tears, |
|
A lake of |
|
The echos were turning slow |
|
It doesn't mater |
|
It doesn't mater |
|
The echos were turning slow |
|
It doesn't mater |
|
It doesn't mater |
