amy quinn - painted bird | Текст песни

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• amy quinn
• painted bird

i painted a bird
sitting in a tree
she was beautiful
but she would not sing to me
so i painted a flower
growing in a field
she was lovely
but no sweet fragrance
would she yield to me
a thing of beauty is
a tricky little thing
stirring soul desires
and in the moment vanishing
o could try to chase the wind
try to catch ahold
like picking up the fragments
of a dream that's just grown cold
until i realize

nothing has been truer
than Your Word to me |3rpt.
o God

my roots grow deeper
in the soil of Your Word
my branches rise
to cast Your shade
upon the weary earth
and i can feel Your breeze
in this canopy of green
my rooting down has been
my upward rising

nothing has been truer
than Your Word to me |3rpt.
o God
_
my Lord
my God |2rpt.

nothing has been truer
than Your Word to me |3rpt.
o God