Where collects the thoughts of the paraplegic
sitting alone in thoughts
of a past no longer perfect ?
The glowing red sun sets behind the hill
as life flows by against our will
Every step has a purpose
even when we are running away
Each cause has effect
but once motored
it is here to stay
Tell me of the sands of time
how fickle they stand
Against the winds of change
a dead man's hand
Everyday , so much the same
never the moment to be again
Such a little word
that means so much , "never" again
Blessed yet all are the same
taken for granted , a dance of denial
Catch us before our great fall
Parachute us . . . or we won't
be even able to crawl
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 8:45 PM UTC
Where collects the thoughts of the paraplegic
sitting alone in thoughts
of a past no longer perfect ?
The glowing red sun sets behind the hill
as life flows by against our will
Every step has a purpose
even when we are running away
Each cause has effect
but once motored
it is here to stay
Tell me of the sands of time
how fickle they stand
Against the winds of change
a dead man's hand
Everyday , so much the same
never the moment to be again
Such a little word
that means so much , "never" again
Blessed yet all are the same
taken for granted , a dance of denial
Catch us before our great fall
Parachute us . . . or we won't
be even able to crawl
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