Текст песни
A waitress sketched a crescent moon and whistled a sweet,
Soft tune; I tipped her for the little gift,
But she was gone too soon.
I don't care where the stay goes; I like the way it moves and flows,
Collecting small and passing things,
And how my joy just seems to sing.
The sound of laughter behind a door,
Soft tune; I tipped her for the little gift,
But she was gone too soon.
I don't care where the stay goes; I like the way it moves and flows,
Collecting small and passing things,
And how my joy just seems to sing.
The sound of laughter behind a door,