Her scent breathed in,
Is dirt and leaves and cinnamon,
Dried lake water on summer skin…
So I cry into this cold microphone,
“When Far as the Sky”
A poor substitute for your ears…
The Official Natchet Taylor Website
Texas Singer-Songwriter and Troubadour
Her scent breathed in,
Is dirt and leaves and cinnamon,
Dried lake water on summer skin…
So I cry into this cold microphone,
“When Far as the Sky”
A poor substitute for your ears…