$OSMO $SOXSB $BLUR
Blue mountains span the northern outskirts; white waters wind around the eastern town.
Here we part ways, and you set off alone, a tumbleweed bound for a journey of ten thousand miles.
Drifting clouds speak of the wanderer’s thoughts; the setting sun, of an old friend’s affection.
We wave goodbye and go our separate ways; our horses neigh softly as they part.
Blue mountains span the northern outskirts; white waters wind around the eastern town.
Here we part ways, and you set off alone, a tumbleweed bound for a journey of ten thousand miles.
Drifting clouds speak of the wanderer’s thoughts; the setting sun, of an old friend’s affection.
We wave goodbye and go our separate ways; our horses neigh softly as they part.
