the rain was already gone when i woke up, yet i look for more signs in the skyline and the media
the rain is there where i'm going they say but i want to ride, so i choose to believe it will be gone when i get there though i know there's good chances i'm wrong
the song still carves on the side of my head; "i'm to old to cry, when a woman gets me down"
never played the cards, so there's no mistery on why i can't play the cards now.
go very cautious the first mile or two, i don't know how the tires are going to hold to the wet new road but the wind is so calm it soon gives me confidence as i recall the old pages of my early youth when my eyes flew high and long to roads far away somewhere beneath the dreams and hopes of liberation. now i'm here in the open, in the weather, and i'm getting wet
spent a short night coming back and forward, thinking, feeling. the ideas and the the sensations collide time and time again, as i fall confused then i get apparent clarity, just like the road ahead of me, almost no traffic ahead but the cloud hangs heavy right in front of my eyes and yet i want to go faster
the same way i persue and give up with every day that goes and i only wish all of it has a purpose since i can not kiss her skin, not even gaze at her eyes
then when it's time to stop i can see where i went wrong, but then it is too late. and i had so much fun