Norma Winstone - простостори | Текст песни

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• Norma Winstone
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Turning in heights of invisible air, in the distance
The birds fly high from their spire,
Down through the trees,
Riding the breeze as they fall.
Like weightless wanderers, keeping our hopes alive,
Only the will to survive, to survive,
To be here now.

There are no signs in the distance that lies in between us.
How can we know where to go?
Anyone's guess,
Trust less and less what we know.
There is a city of unfathomed streets below,
Where it is best not to go, not to know,
Keep our distance.

Where are the signs in the distance that lies in between us?
How can we know where to go?
Anyone's guess,
Trust less and less what we know.
There is a city of unfathomed streets below,
Where it is best not to go, not to know,
Keep the distance...

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