3 acessos
The line runs through like a train in a book,
Or metres underwater, ending with a hook
It sways in the air when there's wind enough to lift,
The fine ones are boundaries when there is a rift
I'm just pulling on a line, on a line, I'm just pulling on a line
I'm just pulling on a line, on a line, & sometimes it pulls on me
The line, it inks across the freshly fallen snow,
Where only those embracing coldness would go
It whistles & it whispers, and sometimes it howls,
It sings to me sweetly from the trees & in vowels
I'm just pulling on a line, on a line, I'm just pulling on a line
I'm just pulling on a line, on a line, & sometimes it pulls on me
The line, it writes itself across the dark sky,
In the electric flushes ending with a sigh
It weaves itself into a fabric so true,
and flows just like the river, graceful and blue
I'm just pulling on a line, on a line, I'm just pulling on a line
I'm just pulling on a line, on a line, & sometimes it pulls on me