(Jackson Browne) Oh how sadly sound the songs the queen must sing of dying A prisoner upon her throne of melancholy sighing If she could see her mirror
has dreams of no one there Within the shadows of her room But all my frozen words agree and say it's time to Call back all the birds I sent to Fly behind
Traduzione: Jackson Browne. Birds Of St. Marks.
Traduzione: Jackson Browne. The Birds Of St. Marks.