It's called progress when the tractor plows through
The flower may not know the word, but it feels the terror
Trembling through time, progress marches on
To where? No one knows yet --my Uncle Ted had his suspicions
Now I have mine
The silence is no longer still or certain for me
The wind tells me everyone needs a job, but not everyone makes it out
We all make deals with the devil --but the world keeps spinning
When does the tide turn back?
I am still swimming the other way
Across the current of my being, lies...
A little idea
A little hope for tomorrow
A little prayer for the dread & sorrow of today...