Stratospheric traces of our transitory flight. Trails of condensation held in narrow paths of white. . The sun is turning black. The world is turning gray.
I turn my back to the wind. To catch my breath,. Before I start off again. Driven on,. Without a moment to spend. To pass an evening. With a drink and a friend.
A modern day warrior. Mean, mean stride. Today's Tom Sawyer. Mean, mean pride. . Though his mind is not for rent. Don't put him down as arrogant. His reserve, a quiet defense.
Like the fly on the wheel, who says. "What a lot of dust we're raising". Are you under the illusion. That you're part of this scheme?. Seems like a lifetime ago.
Begin the day with a friendly voice. A companion unobtrusive. Plays that song that's so elusive. And the magic music makes your morning mood. . Off on your way, hit the open road.
I wasn't walkin' on water. I was standin' on a reef. When the tide came near. Swept beneath the surface. Lost without a trace. No hope at all. No hope at all.
Sprawling on the fringes of the city. In geometric order. An insulated border. In between the bright lights. And the far unlit unknown. . Growing up it all seems so one-sided.
The way out is the way in. The way out is the way in. The way out is the way in. The way out is the way in. . Out of touch. With the weather and the wind direction.
My uncle has a country place, that no one knows about. He says it used to be a farm, before the Motor Law. And on Sundays I elude the 'Eyes', and hop the Turbine freight.
A wave toward the clearing the sky. . All this time we're talking and sharing our Rational View. A billion other voices are spreading other news. All this time we're living and trying to understand.
A certain measure of innocence. Willing to appear naive. A certain degree of imagination. A measure of make-believe. . A certain degree of surrender. To the forces of light and heat.
A certain measure of innocence. Willing to appear naive. A certain degree of imagination. A measure of make-believe. . A certain degree of surrender. To the forces of light and heat.
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Did I have a dream?. Or did the dream have me?. Did I have a dream?. Or did the dream have me?. . Set off on a night sea journey. Without memory or desire.
Ohh yea yea yeah. Ohh ohh yea yeah. Yeah ohh. . Here's a little trap. That sometimes catches everyone. When today's as far as we can see. Faith in bright tomorrows.
Pack up all those phantoms. Shoulder that invisible load. Keep on riding north and west. Haunting that wilderness road. Like a ghost rider. . Carry all those phantoms.
The city crouches, steaming. In the early morning half light. The sun is still a rumor. And the night is still a threat. . Slipping through the dark streets.
The city crouches, steaming. In the early morning half light. The sun is still a rumor. And the night is still a threat. . Slipping through the dark streets.
On certain nights. When the angles are right. And the moon is. A slender crescent. . It's circle shows. In a ghostly glow. Of earthly luminescence. . Earthshine.
On certain nights. When the angles are right. And the moon is a slender crescent. . Its circle shows. In a ghostly glow. Of earthly luminescence. . Earthshine.