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Текст песни GATHERING - Analog Park

GATHERING - Analog Park слова песни



Текст песни GATHERING - Analog Park




In the garden, in the park, on a bench, I sit.A newspaper floats on the breeze of this late summer.It is coming my way,I patiently wait.I see the sign, it's on the roadand I think it's crazy( )In the garden, of the park, on a bench, I watch.The sandy feet of the children.Pearls of sweat run across their beautiful faces.You see the sign, it's on the roadbut I think you're crazyYou are, you are the signof my unreliefAs I easily get inner contact with myself,I notice distress grabbing for my throat.It is time to reach out.To find something that isn't there,You see the signs, they're on the roadbut I think it's crazy




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