Time has told me not to ask for more, someday our ocean will find its shore.
If songs were lines in a conversation, the situation would be fine . . .
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 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.
I woke early like a condemned man to the naivety of birdsong.
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
If you would and you could brighten my northern sky.
Fame is but a fruit tree- so very unsound. It can never flourish 'till its stock is in the ground.
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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