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The poet's voice lingers on His words hang in the air The ground you walk upon Might as well not be there Might as well not be there I'll take you through my dreams Out into the darkest morning Past the blood filled streams Into the garden of Jane Delawney Into the garden now Though the rose is fair Don't pluck it as you pass For a fire will consume your hair And your eyes will turn to glass… en lire plus

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The poet's voice lingers on
His words hang in the air
The ground you walk upon
Might as well not be there
Might as well not be there
I'll take you…

Discuter de ces paroles sur MetroLyrics

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