Texty:
Jackson Browne The Birds Of St Marks

has dreams of no one there Within the shadows of her room But all my frozen words agree and say it's time to Call back all the birds I sent to Fly behind

Překlad: Jackson Browne. Ptáci svatého Marka.

(Jackson Browne) Oh how sadly sound the songs the queen must sing of dying A prisoner upon her throne of melancholy sighing If she could see her mirror