God Is In Buchans (Across The Field)
And I grew up to the stars And watched women repeating The Library of Coon For the best of all worlds And a thinking train across the pond And moose at thanksgiving Photos of you Mercy is there And a way to believe In everything there And pond of relieve For 1820 And John who never lost The best of forgiving The logical way I escalated to Madrid And kept healing the street And won everyone For thousands of vin
No more of the war Would ever be And what became of her Was a new son
Up and early beer And celebrations of time For Håkon and Wren And bottles of wine
Three dollar day Was endlessly mine I searched every colour And failed no tine
God is away with spirit And bounded at hat For the less of all weirs And honest redemption
Favoured no clothing But Sunday Bread To California from Göteborg And praying in heaven
Lord have mercy on everyone in Buchans Eternally grateful for they are never alone In Hebrews upstanding And raining no gladness But the Holy Spirit and Mary
And Israel redemption was yours And I sat in the water And had a special birth that way And everything was determined
To be the the best of days
Hi it’s Bjarne May I live here? I am waiting to write And am in love with small doors And bigger alphabets And Crummey and you
A small boat was seen on radar And moved into the pond Full of amber and coins And Lutheran giving
And Icelandic Tay For Islands of Paul Christ has redeemed Everyone Everyone Eternally yours I pray To be
Become, beneath, grow In Rose and fair And the best of all winds Away from Buchans