Wings of the Wind: Not Alone
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We're living in the darkness now Oh no so far from the light we have known You and I never satisfied for long And we're playing in a game of chance Please darling just one more hand In my heart I know we can start again We'll catch a plane Me and you And turn our heads into the blue to the blue And we hunger for a better day Oh no if only the words that we say Could take us back take us back home We'll catch a plane Me and you And turn our heads into the blue To the blue.
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Down in Galveston. The pavements cracked in Houston as the summer sun beat down The gulf winds blew across the coast as we drove into Galveston Down in Galveston moon shining in the night On sweet water where love shone like the rising moon upon the silver sand you reach out like a pilgrim and it runs right through your hand Down in Galveston your heart falls like the night On sweet water and are we here here by circumstance In these dry days of yearning I need you in the dead of night I need you in the morning Where are we going to go when all our travelling is done Hard as the gulf winds blow hot as the unforgiving sun Down in Galveston your heart falls like the night on sweet water.
The Isle of Malachy. I am high upon a mountain When morning comes around it Where I was all with my love Birds fly upon the way There horses go a riding Messengers bring tidings And every day they sail away Like the sun beneath the sea Search where no ships are sailing No sound of hearts breaking Or down in deepest Africa No one will find him there But down the sands of evening In days of my love leaving You will hear the dance rise all around The Isle of Malachy Now waves of stars are breaking They lie on shores of evening They burn at my eyes dreaming Of a fire to melt the sea I will say a prayer forever I will go with light and thunder And tell each soul and stranger The tale and history Search where no ships are sailing No sound of hearts breaking Or down in deepest Africa No one will find him there But down the sands of evening In days of my love leaving You will see the fire rise all around The Isle of Malachy.
Patrick Was A Wonderful Hero. Patrick was a wonderful hero in the land where man ruled by bicycle until he met with Sad Deirdre oh how he loved her buttery recesses oh how he sinned, but not against her you'd never be up to them old saints. Now I'm down on the heather and there's water in my shoes to river and back lane i run from you you took me to the steeple you fall on the ground your ribbon ribbon light my way home you lead me on Strokestown sitting on your four streets, your sun beat down I'm down living in a four street town And I'm passing the turnpike on my way home from school oh when we are far away now what will we do will we sleep at night when moon is out or on our horses ride like rainclouds Strokestown sitting on your four streets, your sun beat down I'm down living in a four street town Upstairs my piano play going up and down the scale downstairs they're putting on airs and i play for you oh I play for you Now I'm leaving by the back door, the fruit falls where it's sowed horseman to the manor and me to the road Strokestown sitting on your four streets, your sun beat down I'm down living in a four street town.
Wings on the wind - lengtihi.tk
Angel on the telephone angel on the telephone say she's going to be a rolling stone she's out making trouble in the town out making trouble in the town loves that trouble where it can be found How long have I been waiting, hours I spend Footsteps on the street and never reach the end Angel angel glory glory like a flower opening slowly like a rainbow all over me angel angel glory glory Angel where you been so long angel where you been so long when you gonna bring your trouble home You reach out for something wild reach out for something wild I used to think no love could ease my mind How long have I been waiting, hours I spend Footsteps on the street and never reach the end Angel angel glory glory like a flower opening slowly like a rainbow all over me angel angel glory glory.
The attic Song. Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin. We need years to prepare for the conferencehow to invite birds, whom to invite, and of course, where to have it. We call it The Land on the Edge of the World.
We chose it because of its remoteness. This island we are on is completely uninhabited by people. Lots of feather-ruffling. And as it so happened, a group of birds-of-paradise perching on a guava tree, their plumage splashed with the tropical yellow sun and azure of the South Pacific, called out grandly. Beautiful, lush, it attracts commoners. But my Arctic soul revels in emptiness. Look at the singular beauty of one single, simple, icicle. Madame Perroquet ignored Sir Ookpik. Ookpik told you that we need to take back our planet.
What he meant by that was, the humans with whom we share this planet are extremely selfish and careless and have polluted this earth very badly. It was five years ago, on Easter Island in the South Pacific. Unfortunately, however, tourists spotted us, and started staring at us with black sorts of tubes and started snapping small square things, which distracted us to no end. On top of that, many birds felt uncomfortable with so many foreign kinds of birds around.
So, we squawked and talked, and nothing much came of the conference. She sighed, continued. We have no choice, if we want to keep living on this earth. Already numbers of us are dwindling in many places around the world. Sir Ookpik jumped in, his feathers as fluffy as snow. Aside, of course, from those of you who are unfortunate enough to be flightless. How dare you!! Sir Ookpik seemed to have had enough with impertinent fowl. I live atop the world. You live upon its bottom. No more need be said.
He likes to hear his own hooting. The grass-green bird laughed, as much as a bird could laugh. He shook so hard his branch trembled. Madame Perroquet interrupted, squawking and nearly snapping at the owl swollen with his own being. We have serious business to attend to. Now sit down and be still. Or stand still, penguin sir. The Vice-President muttered and fluttered about but the President ignored him once more. Many of you are acquainted with albatrosses, as they flew many of you here.
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Rinku nodded, as did the Jamaican Tody. The green jewel of a bird nodded. Never flown so high nor for so long in my life. There were three of us on board. A nightingale, who sang us beautiful songs at night, while we soared underneath the stars, and a bee hummingbird. He was smaller than me! The Tody nodded. He lives on what humans call Cuba.
Toby, the Jamaican Tody. They shushed one another, and stopped talking, because an albatross had begun speaking. And these are my brothers, Bertram and Ross. Albert gently responded. I trust you have all enjoyed your rides? A cheer went up for the albatrosses. Instead, they swung their wings rapidly, clucked, cooed, hooted, made an assortment of very strange sounds, even sang. Some stamped wide waddling feet. To be able to glide with the wind, for ages, and never land! Sir Ookpik was about to open his beak but Madame Perroquet slapped him sternly, but gently, with her right wing.
You guys are the rock stars of the bird world!! The crows, master tool-users that they were, had crafted lightweight baskets from wood, grains, and spider-silk which was stronger than steel! It took four albatrosses to lift one basket of two penguins. Their rather bouffant northern friends the puffins were represented at the conference as well, but had flown on their own, albeit escorted by an albatross. A pair of gray stormy petrels had followed the albatross airlift, just to keep an eye on things, to dive into the waves and help right a penguin if one—especially the little blue--accidentally fell out of the basket.
Sir Ookpik shuddered. We are merely using our natural-born skills for the use of this world at large. He continued. We fly for hours, even days, at times, without ever landing. Bertram picked up from his brother. Ross continued. And as none of us are young chicks anymore, we have seen how the earth has changed over the years.
Rinku looked at Toby, but Toby was staring at the brothers albatross, in a kind of awe.
Fly on the Wings of Love
Bertram nodded. All the birds erupted in inquisitive cries. They use it for all kinds of things.
But he quickly straightened his back and flapped his wings, which seemed to steady him. Rinku shivered. She looked at Toby in concern. Toby simply nodded. Albert spoke, evenly. And people want to do something about it. She turned to Albert. Albert nodded, and continued.
Toby shook his head. And when he shook his head, his whole body shook. He really was a very cute bird. Many will not stop again until they reach New Zealand, a journey of 11, km 6, miles , lasting four or five days—believed to be the longest nonstop bird migration in the world. Just why do birds embark on these incredible journeys?
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Birds do not leave an area merely because the weather is due to turn cold. Studies show that migration is fundamentally about food supply, not temperature, as birds that can continue to find enough to eat during the winter rarely migrate—e.