como se os pink floyd encontrassem a tradição planante dos late sixties e dos early seventies americanos. crosby, still, nash and young andam por aqui, tal como os america. porque o tempo não existe, o tempo nunca aterrou na portela. o tempo, nunca ninguém o viu. e assim.



fuzzy way
haze in the assault was awaking
the sand was a grayish shade of blue
spirits of desire
were her eyes they did admire
the evening that we only thought we knew

further out to see
i held the rose wings over me
vibrations in the air turn my ears
the sun was rising ...
the day was saddled up to go
the desert is a lonely night for disappear

the rain in flowers through the desert sky
is wiser then you and me
the birds now go east
but still miss a sleep
and the desert raven he has palm trees

close your eyes and fly away
let the diamonds make the light
crystal blue will turn your ruby red
pas with i'm amazing with a heaven story hazel
ever since it galloped over head

buffalo at night they follow close the river's edge while
saffron slowly grows inside the cage
the star reminds of how you sit
at home alone in the suns eclipse
the sandy canyon flows beyond the wave

the rain in flowers through the desert sky
is wiser then you and me
the birds now go east
but still miss a sleep
and the desert raven he has palm trees