Текст песни
The dirt in which our roots may grow.
Though the storms will push and pull,
We will call this place our home.
We'll tell our stories on these walls.
Every year, measure how tall.
And just like a work of art,
We'll tell our stories on these walls.
Let the years we're here be kind, be kind.
Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide.
Settle our bones like wood over time, over time.
Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine.
A little broken, a little new.
We are the impact and the glue.
Capable of more than we know,
We call this fixer upper home.
With each year, our color fades.
Slowly, our paint chips away.
But we will find the strength
And the nerve it takes
To repaint and repaint and repaint every day.
Let the years we're here be kind, be kind.
Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide.
Settle our bones like wood over time, over time.
Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine [2x]
Smaller than dust on this map
Lies the greatest thing we have:
The dirt in which our roots may grow
And the right to call it home.
Треки исполнителя
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Moon
Sleeping At Last
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Push
Sleeping At Last
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You've Got a Friend in Me
Sleeping At Last
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Transformations
Sleeping At Last
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Next to Me
Sleeping At Last
-
Snow
Sleeping At Last
-
The Writer
Sleeping At Last
-
Atlas: Body
Sleeping At Last
-
The Ink from Books
Sleeping At Last
-
Atlas: Five
Sleeping At Last
-
Pacific
Sleeping At Last
-
Everywhere I Go
Sleeping At Last
-
Climate
Sleeping At Last
-
Earth
Sleeping At Last
-
In Her Honor
Sleeping At Last
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