@migu music@

Folk Song - The Sundays

Summer sky and a throat bone dry

And the fields are all gold

Dusty lane with a song in my brain

And it stoned me to my soul

I climb higher move towards

The fire blaze sun

Silver trees and a whispering breeze

Are my sight and my sound

And the thought of heaven

Couldn't drag me from the path

When I'm wandering here alone

I climb higher move towards

The fire so blaze sun

Watch until it dies

Slow falling from the sky

Pale fading sun