Robert Forster. A Place To Hide Away. Zeneszám

Lightning cracks the convent mist curls to the bells
Trees run down to the road protect the convent girls
A Sister somewhere bows her head to pray
Offer protection, a place to hide away

Deep in Sherwood Forest the elves keep to themselves
No one is scarecrow the witch has no spells
A map of tree tops a road that?s made of clay
It?s hard to get to, a place to hide away

I?m thinking of Mondaino I?m thinking of Greece
I?m thinking a walled city to give me my peace
I might take up teaching I have a lot to say
At a roundtable, at a place to hide away

I might take you up on one fine sunny day
I might take you up to a place to hide away