Lyrics of 'Sailing Stones of Death Valley' by Rodrigo Martins

Aquelas flores que crescem ao norte da montanha pedem um pouco mais de água,
Estão murchando, estão murchando cada vez mais, cada vez mais,
Antes que o tempo possa morrer ainda verei as cores negras a crescer, a crescer.
Máscaras de gás caem sobre as cabeças mais que beleza, mais que beleza!

Aquelas flores que crescem ao norte da montanha pedem um pouco mais de água,
Estão murchando, estão murchando cada vez mais, cada vez mais,
Antes que o tempo possa morrer ainda verei as cores negras a crescer, a crescer.
Máscaras de gás caem sobre as cabeças mais que beleza, mais que beleza!

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