She stands in her garden watching daffodils dance in the breeze Her own hopeful waters sail in a boat where prayers reach her knees Her mind only clear when her garden is near
Visions of somewhere, anywhere, but here
What’s that river running fast through the veins Where’s that place where the mind can remain free and clear Where the mind can be clear
She never threw dirt on his grave, gave him a stone watching green fields His own hopeful open space, freedom to die from a living too real His mind only clear when no one was near
Visions of somewhere, anywhere, but here
What’s that river running fast through the veins Where’s that place where the mind can remain free and clear Where the mind can be clear
Visions of somewhere, anywhere, but here
Since I'm a songwriter, many of my poems have that flavor of "hey, that could be a song.." This poemsong is about people I know who live their lives to be somewhere else.