She pressed her feet across the board walk. She keeps the sunset right with movement in her eyes. She knows she gets away with murder. Swallows up your heart of gold. And I don't know just where we've got to go. This sound is giving for the postman. Another one that's feeling under orange skies. The summer sleeps in time for autumn. Sticking down your leaves on grass. And I don't know just where we've got to go
