Lights are comforting as shades of grey from white and black.
Shine the light, pretty, through the cage to peer inside.
Well, I suppose, in time.
Down it slips, again, the old fire.
On the road again, I’m travelin’ to sights afar.
And all things to commit are feverish frights of what we’ll become.
Well, I suppose, in time.
Down it slips, again, the old fire.
Feel you as I sleep, the breathing sighs in and out.
The glimpse of home and peace always leave to pace my thoughts.
Well, I suppose, in time.
So, down it slips, again, the old fire.
For a light in a cage as it burns through the days.
I can hope that you stay for a while as I age for you.
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