The steady tick and pound of the drums sew a quilt made of bricks
filling my bones with sunshine
I hear the springtime
I see what I may become
A monster hidden between blossoms
We live peacefully though, we do
The sound reverberates
How can something be so great?
Run barefoot through the fields, forget who you've become.
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 2:02 PM UTC
The steady tick and pound of the drums sew a quilt made of bricks
filling my bones with sunshine
I hear the springtime
I see what I may become
A monster hidden between blossoms
We live peacefully though, we do
The sound reverberates
How can something be so great?
Run barefoot through the fields, forget who you've become.
