I hasten to the blackish cover,
Unlock the rusty dusty bolt,
Where my guitar lies there, my power,
With her sweet slumbers in that volt.
I wake her own and take precautions,
Embrace her body like a bride.
Then I pluck strings with rapid motions
And make my favour chord so tight.
Chorus:
Hey-hey-hey! Over here and there
I can see hills, and seas, and lights.
Hey-hey-hey! Someone draws my hand -
God or demon from heaven' heights.
So my guitar begins to tremble.
She maybe laughs or maybe cries.
And I just feel that something happened
Inside of me or in the skies.
And fingers aren't in my own power,
I hold my breath and close my eyes.
It's not a market, not a tower,-
There is an earthy paradise.
Chorus.
The Flow
© Copyright: Юрий Розвадовский, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108062400598
Свидетельство о публикации №108062400598
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