Rex Tyler - You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice. Huntress of the depths of my eyes, you plunder stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.
You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice. Huntress of the depths of my eyes, you plunder stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.
