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There is a path by |
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Lake Bras d' |
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OrI never go there anymore |
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It's not the same, since you and |
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IThe path is narrow, over-grown |
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The few that thread there, thread alone |
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A patch of land, |
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I call my own |
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I planted seeds, some have grown |
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But weeds have choked the few remains |
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My crop has withered in the sun |
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Doomed before it had begun |
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I thought |
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I read the writing on the wall |
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Turned out that it was just a bit of scrawl |
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I walked along, tasting my defeat - |
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There was a time when what was writ |
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Seemed to me clear, and full of wit |
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There is a path by |
|
Lake Bras d' |
|
OrI never go there anymore |
|
It's not the same, since you and |
|
IThe path is narrow, over-grown |
|
The few that thread there, thread alone |
