Am I lonely trimming
its this to be live in
maybe it just a find to see
heard it secretly happening
happening to me
I was always lonely
thinking love was lonely
man for love seem fairy tales
never to be house one day
never to be hound
bird hurst lost a feather
fallen throw the gather
when blow in the roads of winds
whispers secret in the trees
for us to on grieve here
hear the boused of papas
call the seasons surf blust
nature stealth seem dress in green
to a distant tamerlane
distance of our ruin
Am I lonely trimming
its this to be live in
maybe it just a find to see
heard it secretly happening
happening to me