time flies account for our day dreams and circle
our rotten days by the window
then land in the palms of our hands
my mind has never been one for a slow ride
always delights in a sweet tide
slipping away if we can
all these lines keep changing
i’ll follow the stars tonight
a blanket of coal for a beacon of light
who knows if i’m wrong or i’m right
if i follow
three tries, give them to me i will need them
climbing the thorns of a long stem
petals will carry me home
green fields, a sign of the times and a strong yield
food on my plate is a good meal
however the story unfolds
all these lines keep changing
(we stay the same)
stumbling through life's pages
(and we can)
write them as we go
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