to the top of the house;
the air's a maple scent.
A girl passes
white dress
clinging
and already pink from her skin;
And I want to be with her
at the top of the house,
alone with the clouds and wind.
to the top of the house;
the air's a maple scent.
A girl passes
white dress
clinging
and already pink from her skin;
And I want to be with her
at the top of the house,
alone with the clouds and wind.