Founds total 3 songs
Not The One
It's the kind of grey November day that washes away reflections. In the eyes of hotel porters. And the latticed wooden benches by the sea contain no travellers.
Nostradamus
In the east the wind is blowing the boats across the sea. And their sails will fill the morning and their cries ring out to me. . Oh, the more it changes, the more it stays the same.
Next Time
He heard the clatter of her heels in the street. The clock said half-past three. He lay there waiting in the dark to hear. The scraping of the front-door key.
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