There is a temperate zone in the mind, between luxurious indolence and exacting work; and it is to this region, just between laziness and labor, that summer reading belongs.
Henry Ward Beecher
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Who Are You?
Who are you?
Are you a flower that grows on a hillside?
Catching my eye with a rainbow of color
Hopeless lovely and wild as the moon
Your smile and I wonder who are you
Are you a statue inside a museum?
Drawing me closer with eyes like the angels
Unable to love for your made out of stone
I look in your eyes and see nothing but mystery
There's so many things I've been longing to ask you
Who are you and what have you done with my heart?
Who are you? Are you a season, a lifetime, an hour?
Will you be here when the sky turns to winter?
And if I should love you, will you love me too?
Who are you? Who are you?
I look in your eyes and see nothing but a mystery
There's so many things I've been longing to ask you
Who are you and what have you done with my heart?
Who are you? Are you a season, a lifetime, an hour?
Will you be here when the sky turns to winter
And if I should love you, will you love me too?
Who are you? Are you a season, a lifetime, an hour?
Tell me, who are you?
Who are you?
Who are you? Are you a season, a lifetime, an hour?
Who are you? Tell me, Who are you
Who are you? Who are you?