
Your pretty face reminds me of the sun,
When she rose from the back of many hills
Dragging her gold blanket before farms
So if I am to paint a beautiful muse
I will imagine sunrise over wheat fields
And imminent evening when birds fly home
Your pretty face reminds me of the sun,
When she rose from the back of many hills
Dragging her gold blanket before farms
So if I am to paint a beautiful muse
I will imagine sunrise over wheat fields
And imminent evening when birds fly home