voyage que je ne puisse pas faire En tournant sur moi meme En vapeurs meteo Il y'a t'il une raison De prendre un peu de distance C'etait mon element Dependance assuree Comme une eolienne
I've been riding fence all day Way up on the summer range Found a place to make my bed As the evening shadows spread Beyond the campfire light In the
Now is the end of the gentile Pluck aeolian harp, my child Beyond the lust of this moment Thin as a pine slat It does no good to call you mine You're
You are a part of my life Since I met you for the first time In the sky, in the night I will love you till I die... The sweet door of the dreams is open
As I went a walking One morning in spring I met with some travelers On an old country lane One was an old man The second a maid The third was a young
No wind when I took the watch, my ship was still waitin' I lay on that mirrored sky, a restless sail waitin' I closed my eyes, said the words of will
In the Beartooth Mountains where the twin peaks touch the sky There's a homemade cabin out of sight from tourists' eyes And inside lightin' up a fire
You lose your way You've gotta land You've gotta make another plan But sometimes I am too tired You've gotta smile You've gotta play You've gotta work
SNOW: From a world that's never ending From a sky beyond the skies A child is born And love is made alive Like a flaw that seeks perfection With a will
neutralize this neural mess rundown rancid inertia containin' liquid doubts bury charity terms catch 22 curious disciple an alcoholic ego drama decadence
Wind in the wires It?s the sigh of wild electricity I?m on the edge of a cliff Surpassing Comfort and security But here comes a gale A crippling anger
La calma della sera il mare intorno a noi respira fiorisce un agave sulla scogliera dopo cent'anni vento di mare non so dove sei ma se i tuoi sogni somigliano
Tout faux, on a tout faux On peut plus remettre les compteurs a zero On y va tout droit On sait pas ou ca va C'est l'article vingt-deux Chacun s'debrouille
(J. Baez) [Instrumental]
now is the end of the gentile pluck aeolian harp my child beyond the lust of this moment thin as a pine slat it does no good to call you mine you
Thought I heard you call my name On a gentle summer breeze it came To me, late one evening I turned around and you weren?t there I saw your face and touched