Текст песни Wheatfields

Outside the wind is raging Blowing the wheatfields all away And now the game is changing And now the rules are thrown away And the cards are turning And my mouth is dry As her dress is falling Before my eyes, my eyes, my eyes And now the hands are turning And now the clocks are changing Beauty is on the matress Lifting the patterns(?) from her skin And the clothes are falling And her dress's mine(?) And her skin is holy Like the sky, the sky, the sky And our clothes are falling And our mouths are dry And our skin is holy Like the sky, the sky, the sky Outside the wind is raging Blowing the wheatfields all away And now the game is changing And now the rules are thrown away And now the rules are thrown away And now the rules are thrown away Away