The simpler life becomes,
the worse it seems to be.
As things turn to basic,
for both you and me.
Take my hand,
elevate me far away.
Bring me to the place,
where there is no dismay.
Where the birds sing freely,
where the skies never turn grey;
where we can both live happily,
and our souls will never fray.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 5:37 PM UTC
The simpler life becomes,
the worse it seems to be.
As things turn to basic,
for both you and me.
Take my hand,
elevate me far away.
Bring me to the place,
where there is no dismay.
Where the birds sing freely,
where the skies never turn grey;
where we can both live happily,
and our souls will never fray.
