Sun Airway
American West
These tremors grow beneath my toes.The crest of the ripple's dark red glowlike embers beneath the quiet moon with a lion's paw.It keeps my horses captive like a band of outlaws.Even the darkest night needs an allyagainst the morning light. And every word my lips suggest?that's between my lips and the american west.Sat in the crooked range with a desert red?a steadfast threat of evening hanging over my head,over some jagged trains that fade from sightand melt in silver rivers soaked in midnight.
From Letras Mania