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The Sundance Of The Haute Provence - text

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Now the time is gone which should be sunny and free
Not quiet spontaneous but though was meant to be
With glissando on secret ways
For delivering advance

The eastern winds wore lark’s songs
Sharp like splittering glass
The smell of sage and sassafras
Sunbating on a plateau in the Haute Provence

There where stormy showers
For perish in persecutions
And headless thoughts for one-way solutions
Two sailors lay around their fire
Waiting for the dawn’s dance

They sung the sundance of the Haute Provence
I threw my sympathy upon their pyre
The smell of sage and sassafras
Sunbating on a plateau in the Haute Provence

Text přidal roman59

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