If songs were lines in a conversation, the situation would be fine . . .
Time has told me not to ask for more, someday our ocean will find its shore.
Do you like what you're doing/would you do it some more/or will you stop once and wonder what you're doing it for?
Life is but a memory Happened long ago. Theatre full of sadness For a long forgotten show.
...you're a rare rare find A troubled cure For a troubled mind
I saw it written and I saw it say
Pink moon is on its way
And none of you stand so tall
Pink Moon gonna get you all
I never felt magic crazy as this I never saw moons knew the meaning of the sea I never held emotion in the palm of my hand Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree But now you're here Brighten my northern sky.
Fame is but a fruit tree- so very unsound. It can never flourish 'till its stock is in the ground.
If you would and you could brighten my northern sky.
I woke early like a condemned man to the naivety of birdsong.
I think there's something extraordinarily nice about seeing the dawn up before one goes to bed,  there's something uncanny about it.
And see she flies, and she is everywhere.
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