Folk Song - Sundays



summer sky & a throat bone dry

& the fields are all gold



dusty lane with a song in my brain

& it stoned me to my soul



i climb higher move towards the fire

blaze sun



silver trees & a whispering breeze

are my sight & my sound



the thought of heaven couldn't drag me from the path

when i'm wandering here alone



i climb higher move towards the fire

blaze sun



watch until it dies slow falling from the sky

pale fading sun



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