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*** Autor textu: Indica *** Autor hudby: Indica
Mute
Sometimes I wish I was quiet
You could see me like you see
The field bent under the storm grows sacred crops
Sometimes I wish the storms would fall on me
Wash all the dirty
Drowning into deep waters
Away, they would wash our vanity
Away, I would flow into the last river
Sometimes I wish you were mute
I could see you like I see
The nature, humble under the rain grows sacred crops
Away, they would wash our vanity
Away, I would flow into the last river
I'd shut my words into my chest
So it can sound
Hear, how the wind plays its bells
