It ain't about a heart to find. It's about the one inside. It's about the love you hide. It's waitin' to be let outside. . And it ain't about losing your mind.
Watch the stream run by you. Watch the Indian chief. Wrapped in blue corn leaves drift by you. Watch you take root in the son's palm. And rise out of the fire.
Fallow casts and one's bone your bread. But when the night comes. Light of match. Will catch lay low leave. Or sing so long. . Window spreads like cornfields in fall.
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