Letras
Singing a song
To the Sycamore tree
If I can't belong
Then I best believe
And how I want you
And I hope my ghost will haunt you
Cuz flesh and bone don't last
Stuck in a book
When my body wants more
Not just a mind
That I carry forward
But with that light on
To lead the steed we ride on
I praise this bless'd nylon
These strings my fingers ring
As I sing
We are the thread
Between the ground and skies
Nothing is dead nobody really dies
If you think it, it's alive
Sunday rises slow round here
If I stay quiet the voice is clear
And it tells me
To breathe in slow and smell the
Blossoms of the hour
Some day I'll come back and see
That big old beautiful Sycamore tree
And I hope to
Sling a swing of rope to
Open my my scope, view
All this like she does
From above
We are the thread
Between the ground and skies
Nothing is dead nobody really dies
If you speak it, it's alive
I know there's a pattern
A meaning 'neath the matter
And at least it seems to me
If I just take some time to be
I feel the Earth behind my eyes
And so I praise and so I rise
Because I carry her inside
Because I carry her inside
We are the thread
Between the ground and skies
Nothing is dead nobody really dies
If you sing it, it's alive