Eagles soaring above the trees
Silhouette against the painted sky...
Sitting out on the porch...
The scarlet glow
Of the sunsets beauty...
In the grey morning
They dance in the tickling air...
When all of us were still kids
We used to play in the meadows...
It's the soft wind against my hair
the light breeze against my face...
Where goes my soul? it left me so,
so many moons ago...
Propped up in the apple tree
where my laughter echos through the breeze...
Perched high above so I can see,
a vast land telling me that I am free...
A small spark sets it off,
A small stick helps it grow...
As trees keep falling
The sound they make would be us...
digging deep into
her pockets she pulls out handfuls...