Old Poetry Making an e-ppearance (Set 2)
Sunday, August 01, 2004
I look at her hair-shrouded face
She doesn't look back
My mind is wondering
Wandering to the sound of the percussion
Rhythm cleanses my soul
I look again
A spectre of future times floats by
I sing the blues
No one can hear
Here I am
Alive
Living Burning
The summer turns
The air is scented of fall's catch
Smoke rising
It's a brand new day
I won't look again anyway
I'm going upstream and she's going downstream
We meet but for a fleeting moment
eyes transfixed
She looks through me
Winter Comes and spring will come again
Yes it will
But will it?
Surely...
The seasons are infallible
My hands don't lie
I look at her hair-shrouded face
She doesn't look back
My mind is wondering
Wandering to the sound of the percussion
Rhythm cleanses my soul
I look again
A spectre of future times floats by
I sing the blues
No one can hear
Here I am
Alive
Living Burning
The summer turns
The air is scented of fall's catch
Smoke rising
It's a brand new day
I won't look again anyway
I'm going upstream and she's going downstream
We meet but for a fleeting moment
eyes transfixed
She looks through me
Winter Comes and spring will come again
Yes it will
But will it?
Surely...
The seasons are infallible
My hands don't lie