Frisbee from Golden Mountain by Amarillo

I could hear the children calling
Calling from outside
Calling out for mother
But none of them were mine
You said that you were leaving
After winter time 
Summer came and went
And you said you were fine

And time it flies 
Right out of the window
Of a moving car
Distances so far 
We traced the map 
With tiny fingers
Wondering where we’ll wander
Never thought to linger

The morning light it filtered
From a crack within the curtain
Spread a kind of peace
In the room where we’d been hurting
And the sleeping body
Laying by my side
Punctuates the silence
With his murmuring and sighs

And dreams of fields
And running freely
Of creeks and tennis balls
And where we lost the frisbee

And time it flies 
Right out of the window
Of a moving car
Distances so far 
We traced the map 
With tiny fingers
Wondering where we’ll wander
Never thought to linger

• Americana
• Folk
• acoustic guitar
• indie folk
• pop folk
• Melbourne