The street grows whiter
as the day grows hotter. Bright
cars, school buses, pass.
Beyond the trees, wa-
ter flashes its restlessness.
It’s that time of year.
I’m tired of moving.
Some power beyond all this
suffers it to be.
The street grows whiter
as the day grows hotter. Bright
cars, school buses, pass.
Beyond the trees, wa-
ter flashes its restlessness.
It’s that time of year.
I’m tired of moving.
Some power beyond all this
suffers it to be.