The winds of change are now blowing again, I can sense it, I can feel it, like a breath of fresh air.
Thousands upon thousands of words, is our right to reply.
A question of priorities, in a universal role.
Memories surround of bitter times, so don't expect too much, as all seems lost, when the world finally says give up.
From the dark wind wept streets, I see a glimmer of light, of hope, a presence of defiance.
I wonder, and I realise, that while some wait for miracles, others may help create them.
From a room that has no view, I gaze from the window; I consider our purpose, the cold stars look down, and there's a feeling that someone, or something, is always looking, strange, cos it's, it's like, it's like careful observation, the sweetest manipulation, those smiling images of love, a confused pattern of trust, a feeble structure fleeing, responsibility and feelings, and I wonder who, what, why where and when and if in fact I'm still believing?
In all those moments we've shared.
Of all the things that we have been through.
I feel happiness, sadness, remember the places that we have been to push our views and ideas home.
Of meeting people who feel alone.
Of seeing anguished faces smile again,
An achievement? Well I hope.
As we swim from the shore, I can feel the undercurrent.
I hear songs of hope and glory, but how deep is their ocean?
We turn and face obsession, a painful reminder from tomorrow.
The seas a funny shade of blue now, do we drown in mistakes sorrow?
A nation remains silent, burnt out skulls, blank expressions.
An image of convenience, in reality's succession.
Blind in the one-eyed kingdom, following those who followed last,
Who follow those, who followed before them. Is there a future in the past?