To Dream Of Autumn
Stuff Is Hard
If twelve hours weren't,
and voices didn't meet the silence of delay;
If anger glared the other way.
If manmade motors ran like the ones in our chest;
If one hundred hands met one thousand efforts;
If we looked around and saw that we're together.
If twelve hours wern't stretched so thin in two directions;
If I could say this,
If I could tap into this,
When the moment passes,
When the tide lowers,
When the sunset is ours to chase.
From Letras Mania