The artist brought his brush tonight
And spread beauty through the skies for you and I to feast our eyes
As we curl in the grass as the world passes by
I don't mind
For really what else could I find
To better spend my fleeting time
You and I
And the innocent night

I wish I could bottle up the time
For it falls right through my hand like the sand passes by
And you would fall as a victim of the light
Ooooh oh I...
It is so hard to define
The hell that it is to be alone with my mind
Sometimes
Oh all the time

I went a-walkin to the earth
To witness the dearth of where my ancestors gave birth
And run wild as children, naked and free
Then there's me stiff in the ****** trees

Oh the artist brought his brush tonight
And spread beauty in the sky for you and I to feast our eyes
And we curl in the grass as the world passes by
I don't mind
No I really don't mind

Although it is only life
I'm still shaken by the dearth
Of all the weary wayfarers
Who've been forced to walk the earth

In the ritual of mad
Until their body's have been drained
Searching for something else
That cannot be obtained

Look at me, I'm on my knees again
I had hoped that you would be the end
of all my
of all my...

Can you tell me
please
which way now is home
I used to know, my dear
The way was clear
There was no fear

Tying my walking shoes
I knew I needed to get clear of here
thought I'd find
all that was dear

The road though, it is narrow
The cliff it is shear
My balance is
woozy

Can you tell me my dear

which way is home
which way do I go from here,
I think I oughta know
But the hills they are wavering
The ocean is in turmoil
The mountains are slick
far too dangerous

The desert has no mercy

I know something and with this knowledge
I think I must be cursed
I think I have it
Peace & Home
goes and comes
and comes and goes.

I’m a friend of darkness
lock lips with it
in a lover’s embrace

I mourn the dawn
beg favors from the twilight
hold every hope
in my uncertain hand
for a day when the sun won’t shine

And I know
by my wayward feet
by the tremors in my hand
that darkness creeps silently
up to my borders
crosses every line
and will someday defeat
my meager defenses

I have prepared my retreat
a forced march
to the grey Pacific
where everything in my life
ends
and begins

The solemn swell of the waves
a fitting harmony
to that last sweet song.