33 acessos
It's beautiful outside,
An old hand gathers wood,
Can he see me sitting here?
His mind is somewhere else.
His friend have flown away,
He's left out in the cold.
He won't sit by my fire,
He says he likes it in the snow.
Where footprints never go,
He likes it in the snow.
It's getting dark outside,
The old hand's going home,
Has he someone waiting there?
Or is he living on his own?
Where footprints never go,
He likes it in the snow...
White blanket, hiding
The traces of tears
She didn't see,
Oh white blanket
Covers the memory
Of all that used to be.
All that used to be.
But his heart keeps
Aching in the same old way,
He can't help
Feeling that she might
Come back someday.
It's beautiful outside,
A magpie looks for food.
The old hand
Throws a crumb,
Do you think
He's found a friend?
Where footprints never go,
He likes it in the snow...
White blanket,
Hiding the traces of paths
He didn't take
Oh white blanket
Covers the memory
Of moves he didn't make
Oh white blanket,
Hiding the traces of tears she didn't see
Snow white blanket simply covers
The memory
Of all that used to be.
But his heart keeps aching in the same old way
He can't help feeling that she might come back someday.