She comes riding early in the morning,. About four to seven.. No one's ever out at that hour.. With eyes that see her. Touch the morning flowers secretly..
She comes riding early in the morning,. About four to seven.. No one's ever out at that hour.. With eyes that see her. Touch the morning flowers secretly..
Night stirs her inky finger in the water of the day,. The tired sun drops slowly in the sky.. And everywhere the gentle air hangs heavy with the day song.