I Write Poetry
You can be the earth, with its plains and grazing herds. And I'll be the sky, with its rains and wheeling birds.
And though we'll never meet, each of us locked a world away. You'll find feathers in your fields, and there'll be nothing else to say.
And though we'll never meet, each of us locked a world away. You'll find feathers in your fields, and there'll be nothing else to say.