Friday, November 13, 2015


Searching for reasons against truth
Withholding blossom against the bloom
I seek the golden somewhere for me
Who told the prophets where to find
Their dying orders hung dry on the line
I seek that symbol, but it don’t seek me

The slow won’t beat the fast
There’s no going back
The heart only beats intact
1985 is feeling black

I saw the measure pour to fill the cup
And what had spilled out, someone called it love
We want the measure, not the flood
So let the day break and the night stand still
Let the quaker try to have his fill
No crying wolf now, not for me

Time it moves right along
Just another selfish song
Though the years have come and gone
1985 is painted black

Some things are in your head
Like the coming tale of death
I shouldn’t get upset
Or listen to a word they said

That 1985 is feeling black 

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