Dazed in the twilight. I see the mayfly fly. Clustering 'round streetlamps of a small town. Rush around, around. Flicker to the ground like snow.... Or the embers of a drowsy fire in cinders.
Baby sings the blues for you. She may get happy later. Baby cries for comfort. For something to surround her. . And when she sings it you believe her.
The grey of winter falls on us -. How will our garden grow ?. Will all the seeds we've sown. Survive beneath the snow ?. We've been here before,. Wrapped in our regret..
Can't see the wood for all of the trees. Can't hear the wind for the breeze that whispers. Voice in your head you like what it said. So what can you do but listen to it?.