Gulls CryGulls Cry
Reality is looking for a job.
The money won’t last.
This idyll won’t last.
The northeast breeze rolls the waves onto the beach.
Where the sun reflects from the water, I cannot look.
Gulls cry.
What fresh heaven is this?
Reality is looking for a job.
The money won’t last.
This idyll won’t last.
The northeast breeze rolls the waves onto the beach.
Where the sun reflects from the water, I cannot look.
Gulls cry.
What fresh heaven is this?