What did it mean to fly
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A tremor in your soul
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To resist the dull existence of gravity
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Upward bound, trees fly
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Two meadows and a fields
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And the border is a simple line of hills
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Ah, didja come uncoiled
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Between heavens and the Earth
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Whispered nonsense into your radio
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Now afternoons you seldom move
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Grounded to a little bit of earth
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And, after all, time barely crawls
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Unoccupied, between each breath it sticks
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What did it mean to fly
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When you were bound to the Earth
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A release from the humid press of days
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Now afternoons it hardly moves
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I wonder how you make it through each day
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And, after all, time barely crawls
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Unoccupied, between each breath it sticks
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What did it mean to fly
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A tremor in your soul
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To resist the dull existence of gravity
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What did it mean to you
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An early chat with death
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To pull your body for a moment from your soul
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The Humid Press of Days
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| Camper Van Beethoven |
