cast aside the lead mask
its narrow eyes saw too much of
the fountains of this age
saw too much of the creations
that have grown of its calling
it heavy hours show in the lines
on her face
grey shadows in her eyes
we spent all we had
we spent our lives and our futures
only to find that the peace that
we gave our lives for
had been traded away

cast aside the
the song of the drummer
his tune is rough and has no
words to revive the soul
has no mending for the heart
cast aside this utterance of hopeless drifting

frozen in the moment
its strange how the time passes
i remember that girl long ago
that used to tell me that each day that we pass thru
was written long ago and nothing we can do to change it
she was written to end her days
in the passenger seat of a buick
on pinebrook blvd at a hundred miles an hour
i think she should have been wrong

we all need a song to mend the heart
we all need to cast aside the masks
we all need to find a better way
than a hundred miles an hour on pinebrook blvd