On both sides of the blue line. When it begins,
We'll never be the same.
There is but one thing to settle
Before we tear everything
Open,
And that is where it all came from?
Was it a survival mechanism? Simply a
Smoke-screen
Put up till after the dust settled? Or
Did it have a meaning
Of it's own?
Was there a path to follow
If only I had believed it
While it rang true?
Where did the plane go that held meaning in the sky?
If it all comes from within,
Why does it falter and diminish
As we travel through
The external world?
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