Idioma Origen:
In a field of yellow flowers
underneath the sun
bluest eyes that spark with lightning
boy with shoes undone
he is young, so full of hope
reveling in tiny dreams
filling up his arms with flowers
right for giving any queen
running to her,beaming bright
while cradling his prize
a flickering of yellow light
within his mother's eyes
she holds them to her heart
keeping them where they'll be safe
clasped within her very marrow
dandilions in a vase
She sees love where anyone else would see weeds
all hope is found, here is everything he needs
Fathomless your endless mercy
weight i could not lift
where do i fit in this puzzle?
what good are these gifts?
not a martyr or a saint
scarcley can i struggle through
all that i have ever wanted
was to give my best to you
Lord search my heart
create in me something clean
...dandelions...
you see flowers in these weeds
Gently lifting hands to heaven
softened by the sweetist hush
a father sings over his children
loving them so very much
more than words could warrant
deeper than the darkest blue
more than sacrafice could merit
lord, i give my heart to you
Lord search my heart
create in me something clean
...dandelions...
you see flowers in these weeds
Idioma Destino:
In a field of yellow flowers
underneath the sun
bluest eyes that spark with lightning
boy with shoes undone
he is young, so full of hope
reveling in tiny dreams
filling up his arms with flowers
right for giving any queen
running to her,beaming bright
while cradling his prize
a flickering of yellow light
within his mother's eyes
she holds them to her heart
keeping them where they'll be safe
clasped within her very marrow
dandilions in a vase
She sees love where anyone else would see weeds
all hope is found, here is everything he needs
Fathomless your endless mercy
weight i could not lift
where do i fit in this puzzle?
what good are these gifts?
not a martyr or a saint
scarcley can i struggle through
all that i have ever wanted
was to give my best to you
Lord search my heart
create in me something clean
...dandelions...
you see flowers in these weeds
Gently lifting hands to heaven
softened by the sweetist hush
a father sings over his children
loving them so very much
more than words could warrant
deeper than the darkest blue
more than sacrafice could merit
lord, i give my heart to you
Lord search my heart
create in me something clean
...dandelions...
you see flowers in these weeds