He's still a meadow child, one of the sun
I stay in the shadow until he returns
And comes back to me
I write him postcards and letters
And he always does reply
And tells me sweet tales
Of his pastoral life
He comes back to me
I wrote postcards
He comes back to me
He's still a meadow child, one of the sun
I stay in the shadow until he returns
And comes back to me
Paroles à titre informatif uniquement.
