Wherever you may run from, Wherever you may hide
However many demons Are chasing you inside
Chasing down your weakness, Chasing down your fears
To the only place that keeps you, That held you all those years
Where one man drowns his sorrows Another preaches truth
And maybe finds some answers To things he never knew
He never would have found them If there along his road
Mistakes had never graced him And left him there alone
And when our days are over, When life comes to a close
The time that we’ve spent crying, In our hearts we know
That not all things are lost there, In dark when we survive
For time is only wasted In times we never try
2 comments:
How do these words come to you? And when? If your answer is your work drive time, then there certainly is value in a commute.
motherbaumert
Words come at odd times. Rush hour commute. Middle of the night. But never when I'm trying to write! As a photographer needs a camera ready at any moment, a songwriter must have paper nearby. Or a very good memory. ~brian
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