The Return
New paradises growing old and jaded
Like crimson leaves into winters faded
Like seasons that can’t last forever
We play by the rules and smile to endeavor
Life is easy and inspiration’s a dead end dream
A time when passion is a stationary stream
Rivers stopping and grasshoppers sleeping
Labor’s requiem for a song of reaping
Same old sounds cling onto thrilling rhythms
As lively spirits flow into empty mannequins
The land of the dead is a song around even-tide
When passions rise until falling by the wayside
Old inspirations come out of their hidden caves
As waters swell and move along exotic waves
A romance with the past is sent out to bloom
Like a new bride longing for her eager groom
Music is reunited with old familiar sounds
Before its final curtain and all its go arounds
New spices grew old and lost their luster
Lost their flavor from the same old mustard
Old fashion melodies coming back into view
What was old will rise up and become new
I can feel it in my old lackluster bones
In time for when my spirit still roams
Music from the past
I welcome thy glorious return

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