Every morning the saints passed my door
I'd say it's not enough I do want more
but then one day I learned about that other shore
a feeling I had never had before
When next morning the saints passed me by
each one of them stared probing in my eye
my heart was light, but ooh my throat was dry
it felt as if I would have to lift the sky
When at the break of dawn I left with them
I wasn't yet a flower, just a stem
I was aware of how I'd have to grow
but then ooh, my lord, you know those things go slow
but then ooh, my lord, you know those things go
1974.
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten