Why should we be barred from the whimsy we believe by things far more fragile than the dreams that we weave...
The morning sky blushes at the sight of us
God paints the sunrise with the softest blues//And loverly, effervescent yellows//If I were a bird, it'd be my featherbed//And if I were a melody, it'd be my complement
On the day I live alone and in peace//My wife and my children, my comp'ny to keep//I'll stare off into the stars and I'll dream//Of adventures to be had when my soul takes its leave
Searching for answers between the lines Lines in the palm of your hand Searching for the slightest sign Sign that is your heart's fervent demand I search your eyes and see it unfold Unfold like cloud shape shifting Rampant, it could never hold Hold shape: I saw my own soul searching Searching, I found only you. Confess