Listen to a story children, that was written long ago, by a master of the design fields. Come my children hold my hand. Listen to a story children, that was written long ago, by the waves of masters says, the written law was made. Come my children hold my hand now, we will go to where it began, upon a story that was written to hold us to the miracles of a band. Listen to the music, that lives in the air. Listen to the music, to bring our hearts sow fair. Listen to the heartache, the squeaking clean does reign, let my window pane be filled with glory, flowers and shane ("God is gracious" ).
We can be guided to the story, when we listen to our hearts. But what we feel and what we share, that's another gain to what is real. Come hold my hands and understand, that we are friendships (helpers) that heal the lands. And when we find that willing chime, a relative is learning to bind, to share our hearts to sing again, that was written in the winds. And by a great designed view, the window pane gifts to me true, the colored blue sky, the rivers roll, down to the billows of this great shore.
Listen children to the story, that was written long ago, heaven come to hold her handkerchief (hand to the chief, the soul in their briefs, spokes or talking with others, in other words, pass the talking stick), to bring home the gold. And all this is sweetness rolling about a story told long ago. Hear we are joining misfits (those looking for home), to bring us to the tidy told (aligned true blue). And heaven knows that lambs returning, the place where we share once more. The golden paved of miracles of what we say and portray. If only we could know the waves, the heaven's hands we hold, then we could find a place to bind to bring us home from told.
A story long ago. A story that was told. A story we believe, come heaven help us achieve. And we are longing to feel the winds, upon the broken chins, those who looked out the window pane, looking to gain. I dreampt of a great story, to better my worries, to dream of great possibilities. And when I soar higher, no one can fly higher, my soul can touch the stars once again, above everything. From star to star and back now, I am about to sack now, to lie upon my bed and close my eyes. I want to share the mighty billows in order for us to cello (down low), the music and vibrations in the wind.
A story long ago, the waves of masters flow, the law of love begets, the lessons, treasure nests, we are posed to know more, to find the glory of the gold. There we go, to the flow until time begin, without any sins. And we will sing our songs to heaven, rise our voices to begin then, where we soar across the mountains and the skies. Heal our brothers know our sisters, feel the weather what course the winds blow, then we find we are part of this holy sky. I know more wise. It's because I hear your whisper, in the winds you tell my sister, that your soul is longing to feel the freedom in the sky, my star can't lie. But I will be the bow of holy, the tree of loving let me be rolly polly (heart pulse, a wave a warrior can ride to heal the tide) to gain the upper hand, that God demands (sacred blessings to purify), we share our song with thee. And all the children are learning how to master, the great protractor (ark of the covenant), the place they arise deep from the seas (true blue of heavenly news). And if the children listen to the written story long ago, they will find that we are going to a place that binds. Heaven knows wise. And we will be flying free in heaven, our star lights will be given to all who come into our sacred hearts, to know our part. And when we seek a love to be meek. And we seek a love to treat sweet, then we find a wave of time we can chime. And all the little little children will learn how to swim in this wilderness, the winds of heaven come into vision all that bind. Come heal our times.
And if only our shelter could come inside of wetter, the tears that fell to keep us well, deep inside to swell. Our hearts now have a cushion, to be out in the bushes, the high waves, the low waves shine through to me and you. And we are going to a place of knowledge, just have to call out and be acknowledged, then we can find a place in the heavenly skies. We are wise. Sow I tell you a story, written long ago, not boring, but a new light that shines tomorrow anew another day. And all we must look towards is joy that unfolds, to show our hearts we are going to be free, you and me.
You and me. You and me. You and me. We are the waving masters. Those who teach us much laughter. We are learning to ride the waves of time, color (red rings) sound (blue rings) let us chime (yellow road).
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