Red spinning flowers, from tree tops falling down
Washing the dirt from our eyes, we return to the ground
The roots hold us down, are lives are stagnant
I’ve thought of how different my life could have been
But who really hasn’t?
Red spinning flowers, from tree tops falling down
Washing the dirt from our eyes, we return to the ground
The roots hold us down, are lives are stagnant
I’ve thought of how different my life could have been
But who really hasn’t?