Weathered beaches on the shores of time, lost to rythym,
Seeking the sands that bring us home, lost to pain.
Find it all, find it soon, hear us call, hear us croon;
We cry, you die, we all fall.
You sigh, we breath a little easier, but it's a lie,
I know, cradle the dream, it's a myth unfolding
And the hands, the sands, sliiping through fingers holding;
The heart, beats for the passion, the flame,
The burning, aches so bad, I can't feel;
I die, you cry, we all fall.
You die, I breath a little hesitant, but I lie;
I knew, the dream took over, and it crashed,
Lost to rhythm, lost to pain,
Nothing to play, nothing to gain.

© Tom Stanley