the broken glass that fades
the past is a parade of countless days
painting patterns in the sand
my motorcycle brain
remains to be explained
it's like a summer rain
pictures passing through a field
blowing into the horizon
watching the shadows on the wall
tell me can you see my thoughts?
watching the shadows on the wall
have you seen it all before?
i need a friendly hand
someone who'll understand me by the river bed
when there's nothing to be said anyways
it's all inside your head you know it.