.(A ways outside the tower and turmoil of towns,)
In the quiet color cutting of another splendid sunset...
on the spit of wire spun between two telephone pole necks,
sits an awful fevered murder of crows.
Itching the dusk with the call that only they can lay low,
And so that day th.
Have you been looking for lyrics of your favorite song, too long? Lyrics has got them all listed out for you by your favorite songwriters, artists neatly arranged by albums you love. Simply,Choose an album, artist or lyricist and start discovering lyrics of your favorite songs.
Allow To View All Exclusive Content & Notifications 🔔