Nhạc sĩ: John Leventhal, Rosanne Cash
Lời đăng bởi: 86_15635588878_1671185229650
Five cans of paint in the empty fields, and the dust reveals.
The children cry, the work never ends.
There's not a single friend who will hold her hand in the sunken lands.
The mud and tears melt the cotton balls, it's a heavy toll.
Oh, his words are cruel, and they sting like fire, like the devil's choir.
Oh.
But who will hold her hand in the sunken lands?
The river rises, and she sails away, and she could never stay.
Oh.
Now her work is done in the sunken lands.
There's five empty fields.
She can't.
She's my trickster.
