#
Название
Альбом
Текст песни
The forecast showed a clear eclipse of cloud across the western ridge
A moth kept battering the bulb, blue gravel glittered on the bridge
You missed the bus by half a breath, your sister said "I'll come instead"
You took the shortcut through the pines, the needles softened every tread
You'd later call these things a omen, an alphabet you couldn't read
Чтобы увидеть полный текст,
Поток по треку
Похожие по звучанию треки из нашей коллекции