through The Old Oak Tree
A stream flowing through the old oak tree is still alive.
The heart of the forest (wood which has lived to long it is, unexpected obstacle, this living log
and complicated cover which I lowered)
She Is Afraid, He Is Tired..
She is he,
and he is She.
now lost, loves heart.
day By Day
A little eye not made by man.
All woman seem to have.
Available to none our honey bees.
Clinging to my window butterflies.
A spell, a well soaked rag
' My Heart Is Heavy'
From the center of my heart, your many lost songs.
From the heart of one single tear.
I am lost like you both apart, one is beating.
Gone from our gentle childhood.
She Is Afraid, It Is Tired.
Wherever you are..
and now you're afraid..