Hunting high and low, no end to the red rain that pours onto my soul. To find again, a familiar dream, one that was dreamed so long ago. And next to mine, the sweetest love I could find, as the red rain pours, is the softness of your voice. So to the lake we ran naked in our sorrows, and still to no end must we go, keep on our knees, as the sun bursts into the mist....what chances have passed us by. Baron soul no more, and still the red rain pours until the likeness reflected within the rippled mirror is the softness of your smile. And then we cease to play by rules of this so ordinary world. The dream dreamed is real, it's been so all the while.
Cck |
