Выберите трек для воспроизведения
I am the observer, that's who I am. I am the observer, this was my walk. I am the observer, that was dusty and the echoes of his past
I am the observer, that was the answer of the search. I am the observer, that was the weight of it all. I am the observer, this is what I saw
Two men, one carrying stories, memories and loss. Unraveling them in the afternoon sun, looking for someone to listen. The other carrying control, anger, a need to hold on or in his fist, because letting go might mean falling apart
Needle wrong, needle right. Just two men, existing in the same world, walking different paths. Each trying to make sense of the past in their own way
Rare, and me, just passing through. Collecting the moments, watching the echoes of their lives ripple against the pavement. And Daisy, tugging at the leash, ready for the next conversation
Dusty just nodded like the man who had learned not to fight the way things fall into place. It is what it is, he said. For the first time, I heard it not as surrender, but as a quiet kind of victory
I am the observer, that's what I saw. It is what it is. I am the observer, that's what I saw. It is what it is
I am the observer, that's what I saw. It is what it is. I am the observer, that's what I saw. It is what it is
It is what it is