franklinstower
03-03-2007, 05:40 AM
On this rock,
of burnin' love,
the children are captives,
the cannot be dubs.
They frolic naked,
through the fields,
on and on,
their minds don't yield.
Their hair it flutters,
in the wind,
through the mist,
their bodies swim.
Down the mountain,
they will run.
Over the dale,
their faces sunned.
By the river,
and to the trees,
their feet keep moving,
kicking the leaves.
Now they're safe,
away from home,
up to god,
their souls are thrown.
So, on this rock
of burnin' love,
I ask you this,
who is above?
of burnin' love,
the children are captives,
the cannot be dubs.
They frolic naked,
through the fields,
on and on,
their minds don't yield.
Their hair it flutters,
in the wind,
through the mist,
their bodies swim.
Down the mountain,
they will run.
Over the dale,
their faces sunned.
By the river,
and to the trees,
their feet keep moving,
kicking the leaves.
Now they're safe,
away from home,
up to god,
their souls are thrown.
So, on this rock
of burnin' love,
I ask you this,
who is above?