He walks alone
Through the hedgerow.
Ground beneath his tired feet.
Baked in the summer sun
Past the blood red berries.
Vicious thorns and twisted oak
The dust the fields the heat.
A hill.
He walks alone
Through the hedgerow.
Ground beneath his tired feet.
Baked in the summer sun
Past the blood red berries.
Vicious thorns and twisted oak
The dust the fields the heat.
A hill.
He walks alone
Through the hedgerow.
Ground beneath his tired feet.
Baked in the summer sun
Past the blood red berries.
Vicious thorns and twisted oak
The dust the fields the heat.
A hill.