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So what now, you say
Sun and Rain, gone to play,
and all that remains,
is a blackened, charred machine,
of our love, burned under the stare,
of an incredible eye, carried,
in that little place in the sky,
that we all try to reach,
vainly climbing up false pillars,
to totter and fall, and cry at,
for our love was cared for, but failed,
and we never reached that place, that so
few make, but many try to reach
and turn like us, to stare,
at the crashed vessel, the ship,
the heart the feeling rode upon,
thats now lying beneath,
broken, for the attempt cracked it,
but now, you say,
we run away,
but what now?
Sun and Rain, gone to play,
and all that remains,
is a blackened, charred machine,
of our love, burned under the stare,
of an incredible eye, carried,
in that little place in the sky,
that we all try to reach,
vainly climbing up false pillars,
to totter and fall, and cry at,
for our love was cared for, but failed,
and we never reached that place, that so
few make, but many try to reach
and turn like us, to stare,
at the crashed vessel, the ship,
the heart the feeling rode upon,
thats now lying beneath,
broken, for the attempt cracked it,
but now, you say,
we run away,
but what now?
There have been no replies to this thread yet.
So what now, you say
Sun and Rain, gone to play,
and all that remains,
is a blackened, charred machine,
of our love, burned under the stare,
of an incredible eye, carried,
in that little place in the sky,
that we all try to reach,
vainly climbing up false pillars,
to totter and fall, and cry at,
for our love was cared for, but failed,
and we never reached that place, that so
few make, but many try to reach
and turn like us, to stare,
at the crashed vessel, the ship,
the heart the feeling rode upon,
thats now lying beneath,
broken, for the attempt cracked it,
but now, you say,
we run away,
but what now?
Sun and Rain, gone to play,
and all that remains,
is a blackened, charred machine,
of our love, burned under the stare,
of an incredible eye, carried,
in that little place in the sky,
that we all try to reach,
vainly climbing up false pillars,
to totter and fall, and cry at,
for our love was cared for, but failed,
and we never reached that place, that so
few make, but many try to reach
and turn like us, to stare,
at the crashed vessel, the ship,
the heart the feeling rode upon,
thats now lying beneath,
broken, for the attempt cracked it,
but now, you say,
we run away,
but what now?