Flute Song
Make up to segregate
What I think you talk about too much
Say words to fill some space
Makes mistakes rerun around too much
I think that you're afraid
Displaying better thoughts could blame you happy
What a shame
Made up binding wrists to bed posts
Armored self-esteems play midnight hosts
Comforts resting blanket despair
Whirlwinds serve you circles once again
Autor(es): Gil Evans
