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The Wheel lyrics
by
Richard Brautigan
The wheel: it's a thing like pears
rotting under a tree in August.
O golden wilderness!
The bees travel in covered wagons
and the Indians hide in the heat.
Artists:
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A
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I
J
K
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M
N
O
P
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All artists:
A
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
I
J
K
L
M
N
O
P
Q
R
S
T
U
V
W
X
Y
Z
#
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