Beautiful metaphors of thought
escape my wandering mind.
Dreams of visions lost in time
come travelling through my heart.
The morning sun crosses the sky.
Soft wind blows gently through me.
I'm echoing old frames of being free
that hurtle like birds around and around
Oh cry out, you sweet gentle sounds!
Fresh air comes wandering inside
where sweet relief will strong survive.
My thoughts will turn on how to strive
through the swaying grasses of life.
Under the flaying breeze I am
a man who remembers all that was
And this shall be my new found cause
to keep alive the visions of forever.
Oh cry out, you sweet gentle sounds!
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