You played your old guitar while I sang
songs which otherwise would be lost
and the breeze drifted in from
the quiet street outside
the sun setting slow
showing us that
all things must
bloom and
end.
You played your old guitar while I sang
songs which otherwise would be lost
and the breeze drifted in from
the quiet street outside
the sun setting slow
showing us that
all things must
bloom and
end.
