The wind blows,
At a blurring pace,
The bits fly,
I make a chase,
With bruised feet and misty eyes,
I hasten towards,
My darkest truths,
My whitest lies,
Of easy loses,
Of hard gains,
Of the times I laughed and cried in vain.
As days drag,
Years gallop by,
And yet we find shelter,
In the piercing air,
Under the wings of time.
At a blurring pace,
The bits fly,
I make a chase,
With bruised feet and misty eyes,
I hasten towards,
My darkest truths,
My whitest lies,
Of easy loses,
Of hard gains,
Of the times I laughed and cried in vain.
As days drag,
Years gallop by,
And yet we find shelter,
In the piercing air,
Under the wings of time.
cayaTW
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