Текст песни This Bird Has Flown - Benjamin Fairfield

Yellow moon, fills the window pane
Silhouettes and shadows stir again
Oh I recall, summer days fade into fall
And Birds will still their calls
When trees turn bare and plain

Crescent moon, trails behind the light
Chasing suns, and taken from the night
Fields growing gold, growing cold, now growing old
Your blanket's all I hold
Here at the fireside

New moon, yielding to the stars
Mountain pines grow quiet in the dark
Your cup and bowl
They were filled. And Still are full
Departed still you pull
You'll always have my heart