Facing the secluded highway
Waiting for a stranger to reconcile the view
Birds sing alleluia and tumbleweeds roll on and on
And what are we to do?
Misty clouds on the horizon
Promises of rainfall unravel at every turn
To quiet the echoing silence we holler out a murmur
Bones in our bodies and stomachs churn
The road's long
The road is long and the walking is mundane

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS