I wait under the tree, daydream of what it'd be
A bleak future I see, that fades inside of me
I sit upon a rock, here in this world I'm stuck
Reflect on all my luck, and the chord that you've struck
I stroll along the path, away from all my wrath
Fresh just as from a bath, I'll let you do the math
Copyright © 2009 Anthony Phillips (DUNTEE)
Saturday, 2 August 2008
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