Indica

Mute Sometimes I wish I was quiet You could see me like you see The field bent under the storm grows sacred crops Sometimes I wish the storms would fall on me Wash all the dirty Drowning into deep waters Away, they would wash our vanity Away, I would flow into the last river Sometimes I wish you were mute I could see you like I see The nature, humble under the rain grows sacred crops Away, they would wash our vanity Away, I would flow into the last river I'd shut my words into my chest So it can sound Hear, how the wind plays its bells

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ℹ️ Indica - Mykkä

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