lyrics
Is the grey from the smoke or the rain?
I guess we'll see, when I breathe in the breeze.
Skies carry 'round all the troubles we produce on the ground.
There go the crows
To roost when days come and go.
Past they fly, as I lay down to cry.
Eyes looking down from on the breeze,
A place I wish I could be.
Is the grey from the smoke or the rain?
I guess we'll see, when I breathe in the breeze.
Oh to be a bird on the wing.
Instead of on the ground, which rises to meet me.
Oh to be....
Is the grey from the smoke or the rain?
I guess we'll see, when I breathe in the breeze.
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