Song | Whistling Girl |
Artist | Woven Hand |
Album | Black Of The Ink |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Dee | |
A whistling girl | |
Among his flock of sheep | |
In a flow of words | |
Lay breathing backward rest assured | |
Of Elijah and God's birds | |
It will fall to us | |
It will fall to us | |
Inside the home the folk pine grow | |
Where hearts are fire sparks are thrown | |
It is all that glitters | |
This terrible weakness | |
It falls to us | |
It falls to us | |
From his holy hill | |
And it falls to us | |
Yes it falls to us | |
By his perfect will | |
Through the open windows of the soul tonight | |
His yoke is easy and his burden light | |
Kiss the sun lest he be angry | |
And you perish in the way | |
The rivers of the sky are dry | |
And rolled up like a scroll | |
Down below we tend to the forgetting | |
Forgetting what we know | |
The sun slips from your shoulder | |
As you enter in the wood | |
Without thought of thorns | |
Without thought of thorns | |
And it falls to us | |
It falls to us | |
From his holy hill | |
It will falls to us | |
Yes it falls to us | |
By his perfect will | |
Through the open windows of your soul tonight | |
His yoke is easy and his burden light | |
Kiss the sun lest he be angry | |
And you perish in the way |
zuo qu : Dee | |
A whistling girl | |
Among his flock of sheep | |
In a flow of words | |
Lay breathing backward rest assured | |
Of Elijah and God' s birds | |
It will fall to us | |
It will fall to us | |
Inside the home the folk pine grow | |
Where hearts are fire sparks are thrown | |
It is all that glitters | |
This terrible weakness | |
It falls to us | |
It falls to us | |
From his holy hill | |
And it falls to us | |
Yes it falls to us | |
By his perfect will | |
Through the open windows of the soul tonight | |
His yoke is easy and his burden light | |
Kiss the sun lest he be angry | |
And you perish in the way | |
The rivers of the sky are dry | |
And rolled up like a scroll | |
Down below we tend to the forgetting | |
Forgetting what we know | |
The sun slips from your shoulder | |
As you enter in the wood | |
Without thought of thorns | |
Without thought of thorns | |
And it falls to us | |
It falls to us | |
From his holy hill | |
It will falls to us | |
Yes it falls to us | |
By his perfect will | |
Through the open windows of your soul tonight | |
His yoke is easy and his burden light | |
Kiss the sun lest he be angry | |
And you perish in the way |
zuò qǔ : Dee | |
A whistling girl | |
Among his flock of sheep | |
In a flow of words | |
Lay breathing backward rest assured | |
Of Elijah and God' s birds | |
It will fall to us | |
It will fall to us | |
Inside the home the folk pine grow | |
Where hearts are fire sparks are thrown | |
It is all that glitters | |
This terrible weakness | |
It falls to us | |
It falls to us | |
From his holy hill | |
And it falls to us | |
Yes it falls to us | |
By his perfect will | |
Through the open windows of the soul tonight | |
His yoke is easy and his burden light | |
Kiss the sun lest he be angry | |
And you perish in the way | |
The rivers of the sky are dry | |
And rolled up like a scroll | |
Down below we tend to the forgetting | |
Forgetting what we know | |
The sun slips from your shoulder | |
As you enter in the wood | |
Without thought of thorns | |
Without thought of thorns | |
And it falls to us | |
It falls to us | |
From his holy hill | |
It will falls to us | |
Yes it falls to us | |
By his perfect will | |
Through the open windows of your soul tonight | |
His yoke is easy and his burden light | |
Kiss the sun lest he be angry | |
And you perish in the way |