Folk Song Lyrics - The Sundays

summer sky and a throat bone dry 

and all the fields are all gold 

dusty lane with a song in my brain 

and it stoned me to my soul 

i climb higher move towards the fire 

blaze sun 

silver trees and a whispering breeze 

are my sight and my sound 

the thought of heaven couldn't drag me from the path 

when i'm wandering here alone 

i climb higher move towards the fire 

so blaze sun 

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watch until it dies slow falling from the sky 

plae fading sun 

Photos