The brush clouds are hiding the morning sun
but it is oblivious of their hinder
The day moon is dusting its pale face
with the fine lace mists
We will walk barefoot in the dew fields
when the hour gathers its colour
The brush clouds are hiding the morning sun
but it is oblivious of their hinder
The day moon is dusting its pale face
with the fine lace mists
We will walk barefoot in the dew fields
when the hour gathers its colour