Where the sun is the rain.

Another season brushes away it's weary leaves
to lay a blanket, weaved from frozen white
and I still can't blink my weary eyes
until you take the intrigue from the sky.
I stand here alone, times by choice, times by fault;
watch the cars who employ to captivate: spring to summer, summer to fall.
I stand unchanging to face the inevitable winds
that blew the birds from the sight of it all.

It's tragic and it's true to watch the stars that remain
like I, a restless minstrel, who wishes he could change.
There's a place where i can be, where the sun is the rain,
and i want to live there.

The weeks and the months through a cadence of rush
seemed determined to patch the holes in the sky,
The words splash on the ground, puddles of loss
like paint on a canvas takes the tear from ones eye.
I wish i had words like the breath that you stole
to show you the uncertainty, concern, and your heart.
The inexorable doubt is the best to explain;
All artist will lie about the brilliance of art.

It's tragic and it's true to watch the stars that remain
like I, a restless minstrel, who wishes he could change.
There's a place where i can be, where the sun is the rain,
and i want to live there.

There's always a catch, a bit of a somber twist
i've held back for longer but i cannot resist.
It's real for me, no longer the id
for your freudian guidance that doesn't exist.
I am you, and you are me...
but if this us came together there's no stone to set.
We'd wage war in our hearts and set fire to the present
if only this remained this, but right became left.

It's tragic and it's true to watch the stars that remain
like I, a restless minstrel, who wishes he could change.
There's a place where i can be, where the sun is the rain,
and i want to live there... no more.