Scars of Passion


Do we live dispassionate lives
for security's sake
or curse caution to wind,
take the bed that we make?
do we question the road
we decided to take
living lives of numb apathy?
or is this life
a measured ol' test
that's to be lead by the head,
not the heart in our breast?
to make time for living,
do we make time for rest?
a spurious sense of security

Winds of change
Can't you hear them calling?
Swept our breath
Since we first started bawling
There at your back
Resist, they're lashes,
And one day
They'll scatter your ashes

I wake up each morning
and question the day
I suppose I should seize it,
but my mind works this way
and not of what all others say
gives me a sense of genial peace
the dreams from my heart
have infected my head
and by Christ I will chase them
til my last page's been read
I believe there's different ways
that our passions are fed
That quarry, boys, can never cease

Winds of change
Can't you hear them calling?
Swept our breath
Since we first started bawling
There at your back
Resist, they're lashes,
And one day
They'll scatter your ashes
And so I go
Forward falling
the winds of change
I hear them calling
My heart is swept
Never by fashion
Bleeding alone,
The Scars of Passion