One hundred million grains of sand,
each one a part of what was planned.
Measured each before they fell
amongst the seaweed and the shells.
Feeling warm beneath your feet
everything it has to be.
Waiting to return to sea.
Waiting just like you and me.

Down Waverly Lane,
the mist and the haze,
the fog that descends,
the cold and the rain.

Down Waverly lane,
histories stains,
lurk in the shadows,
dance in the shade.

Down Waverly Lane
the night and the moon
the dreams you can't lose
the guilt you consume.

Down Waverly lane,
histories stains,
lurk in the shadows,
dance in the shade.

Whips and pain and daisy chains
are swimming through her mind.
Vanilla mixed with passion fruit
Sweet flavours of all kind.

Trying to grasp a rope of sand
to tie herself to him.
Whips and pain and daisy chains
deep in her mind still swim.

Through currents of emotion
tides and storms of lust and rage.
She searches mind and body
A crazed bird in an open cage.

I heard that Wild Fire Billy died.

Without his coat but not his pride.

I heard that Wild Fire Billy died.



It's said, they found him on the road,

buckshot lead inside his head.

They say, they shot him from behind.

I heard that Wild Fire Billy’s dead

When I saw that picture of a man,
in a field, working land,
at first I couldn't recognize his eyes.
But then it dawned and memories spawned,
of all the love he was to leave behind.
Although I never met him,
we never passed the time of day,
I know I would have loved him,
there's somethings words don't need to say.
You see this man gave me something,
maybe unawares to him.
But this man gave my mother life,
love and hope, somewhere to be.
And though in this life paths weren't crossed,
You never left me at a loss.
And for that,
I thank you now,
the black and white man with the plough.

Who are my to say whats right
and how dare me to even try.
The blood that trickles from my wound,
is on my sheets,
tears in my eyes.
I try to cast my mind back,
like the trawler casts a hopeful net.
In the search of love and truth,
but all that's left is harsh regrets.
There's sometimes when I wonder:
what if we just never spoke?
I wonder would the love transpire,
I wonder what it would evoke.
See memories have a need for words,
its how we form a view.
But its those words that led us here,
and now I don't have you.

Words that burn aren't hard to learn
but leave a nasty blister.
So teach the youth to love themselves
their brothers and their sisters.
It's energy that's going dictate
how the cards will play.
Some lie in bed, they clutch a cross.
Lie waiting for the day.

The meek will then inherit.
All that's broken
all that's left behind.
The remnants of an orchestra
not parallel with natures lines.

A generation left to grasp
the sorry shadow of the past.
I hope they will forgive us, why?
We left them sail without a mast.

Upon sick oceans rising fast.