after the colours had flown
from the washing of the rain
much was taken and forlorn
by the rhythm of the strain
but through shifting sands of time
and hours of regret
in a light of great designs
the river deep ran on...
dream
dream the line
dream the line to walk
to walk the line of dream
after the music had stopped
to wash away the stains
there was nothing left to cling to
but a truthful state of pain
yet in the spray of restless tides
and along all winding roads
in a brief state of grace
the river deep ran on...
dream
dream the edge
dream the edge to walk
toward the edge of dream...
dream
dream the line
dream the line to walk
to walk the line of dream.
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