Hung out to dry
These soaked fabrics
Left to the sun's magic
But who could imagine?
That the earth could be the lantern
That lights up our earth
And drys our clothes from birth
Oh, how we all dangle
Twisted and put through the mangle
Relying on the sun to shine
To take us to a land so fine
Waiting for so long
Something is wrong
Hung on a hook
A tattered coat
This ancient relic
Left on its own merit
But who could imagine?
A coat as grand as a mountain
Hung for such a time
But never from a washing line
Oh, how the wise man drapes
Endless joy and no complaints
The sun is inside him
This is where the souls residing
Home, where it belongs
Nothing is wrong
No comments:
Post a Comment