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There's a feathered cloud in an open sky |
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And the pale-tailed moon goes sailing by |
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This old engine housing's streaked with rain |
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And we're pushing down on them chains again |
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Friend we're like the wind that blows |
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Like the sea we come and go |
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And i'm not trying to tell you |
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How i think that it should be |
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I know deep down inside |
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We are yearning to be free |
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And you're only gonna think of no 1 |
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So what am i to say |
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No matter what you do |
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We're always hurting anyway |
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Forever our hearts will be |
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Always running for what we see |
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By the strings of this old guitar |
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I swear, que sera |
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And you're rolling down old runway ten |
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And the present becomes the past and then |
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Rotating through the driving rain |
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And you're way above those clouds again |
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And i'm not trying to tell you |
|
How i think that it should be |
|
I know deep down inside |
|
We are yearning to be free |
|
And you're only gonna think of no 1 |
|
So what am i to say |
|
No matter what you do |
|
We're always hurting anyway |
|
Forever our hearts will be |
|
Always running for what we see |
|
By the strings of this old guitar |
|
I swear, que sera |
