The pretty winds are here,
Chilly breezes are greeting me.
I have tried changing,
But the map is torched too.

We lit a fire on the beach,
And burned what twigs the lake would give.
The embers were warm on our skin,
Mother nature nurtures her children,
Just as any good mother gives.

The fire is burning it all up,
Somehow,
I feel it swallow me.

All she wished

was to share her love with him.

But when she saw him kissing

the girl he once called stranger,

her heart froze then and there.

She stood still for a while,

her heart unwilling to believe

even her own eyes.

Then with a broken heart

and shattered dreams,

she bade him goodbye.

A teardrop slipped

from her eye,

and her broken heart

silently asked—why?

maybe it's you
maybe it's me
maybe it's the both of us
the reason we disagree
could be the direction
in which we lean
me splashing in the shallow end
you swimming the deep

maybe it's me
maybe it's you
it could be outside ideas
that constitute the truth
inside our spinning circles
we're forced to get round to
what group think constantly heaps
on the likes of me and you

maybe it's us
and we both have it wrong
when it comes to our ideas
of what is really going on
we could sit and reason
the reason for it all
could be you
could be me...

come to think
we're both at fault