Crossroads

The river waxed and waned like the candle on a window ledge on the second floor of my room late last night
Walking through the desert sand dunes feeling the womb of were I came from darkness to light
Primeval beginnings are now used again black and white
Seeing into the past predicts the future like a wind that flies high a kite
We evolve to our surroundings but I feel sick to the stomach to know this is right.