Oh where, can I possibly go?
The rooms are all full, and the ground is too cold from the snow.
And where, could you possibly be?
Hiding away, with your clothes hanging there in the tree.
And what, would the richer folk do.
If they faced up, to what we've been through.
Feel my face, it's stone cold.
Oh Play, with me when you get home.
The wood and the strings, with our voices can bring us back home.
We'll lie, in a space that we own.
The leaves from the trees, will cover our overworked bones.
And what, would the richer folk do.
If they faced up, to what we've been through.
Feel my face, it's stone cold.
Collab Stream
Advanced Search
Start a New Project...
Finished Projects
Streaming Radio
KTV
Kompoz Podcasts
Kompoz Blog
Facebook
Twitter
