long before I lost my way I wonder what he thinks out there Pastures turn from black to green and black again The sun it carves a well worn path From
But I always drift on back to you. The beautiful is not chosen. The chosen becomes beautiful. I have never tired of Manna falling from above When conscious
Another face erased From this tidal pool Found one day Then swept away I will carry you my love If you can carry me Through this summer of our discontent
Place my body on the funeral pyre, Cut it loose to float downstream Leave it frozen on a mountain top, Suspend it high to be picked clean You said never
Someone Out there Kneeling. No one Out there Listening. But what I want to know Before you save my soul Is who gave this power to that fucker up there