Adelyn Rose - Fields | Текст песни

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• Adelyn Rose
• Fields

I ride on the whims
Of the evening wind
And move like a hopeful prayer
Through the tall grass
That steals my breath from me
But will not shoot my heart
With a sculpted point of view

I still haven't learned
How to convey a feeling
But the grasses weave a cradle
For my lonely gold locket
And my wounded hope
Is held tenderly
In the arms
The arms of the fields

My trembling hands
Steady as I wander
Neath silhouettes of trees
And as I tread, a wind sweeps in
A graceful calm
And my heart belongs to the fields

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