Back stroke swimming through thick sirup.
Watching the lake side getting wider,
the people getting smaller,
the crowd getting bigger.
Watching our legs crawl endlessly,
to a shore we can’t see.
Back stroke swimming through thick sirup.
Watching the lake side getting wider,
the people getting smaller,
the crowd getting bigger.
Watching our legs crawl endlessly,
to a shore we can’t see.
Nature can do without man made things.
No wonder of the world can beat
the beauty of a weeping willow.
Except that rusty steel bridge near my town,
which carries across the train,
that brings to me my love.