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SeasonsThe door is open once again to see the fields beyond. The white clouds pass by, as time presses onSeasons
The trees shed their leaves as the wind rustles thorough, theres no hiding place for me and you.
The birds call, we hide behind the wall. as the wind rustles through,
theres no hiding place for me and you.
Black faced beulah's call their young, one by one they run and run, The white clouds pass by, as time presses on.
The sun hangs as a picture in the sky, highlighting the fields of rye. As the wind rustles through,
by ~Mrossey
Eye of Timeby ~Mrossey
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