Lyric Context Universe
whatever slips out of our hands
will find its way back to us once again
if the seasons which change were all still
whatever slips out of our hands
will find its way back to us once again
if the seasons which change were all still
but i'm sure there's a reason why
love never seems to find its way to make you mine
and nothing but
but i'm sure there's a reason why
love never seems to find its way to make you mine
and nothing but
is the wind that blows my love
hope it'll find its way to you wherever you are
i love to sit in fields of green
is the wind that blows my love
hope it'll find its way to you wherever you are
i love to sit in fields of green