I don't want this city to feed on the honest times I'll always need. Well, another inn is up ahead. I'll rearrange my head. And forget about impending doom, of the countryside the city will consume. But through the fog I'm moving on, to get back home at the crack of dawn.
Wind tells a story, of a thousand days gone by.
A song of life it sang, and many passers by. I sit alone and watch, as mighty breakers roar. Of nature circular, in never ending youth. We don't exist alone, together we're set free. I got a job that's grinding me down into a dismal abyss from payday to pain.