I believe That where it is deep and dark

I try to watch the fan blades chasing around For moment they will be focused then blurred now

I turn my music up and pretend I'm free

I jotted notes about life's colorful tint And traced the world in the palm of my hand

I was once an old man who lived on a stool I watched the world

We built a bridge to show that to each other we mattered And even though storms came we restored what had been tattered

I don't want to wait till I'm eighty to see the depth of a babies eyes I don't want to wait till I'm seventy to stop believing all the lies

A cool breeze caught me by surprise Then I hear the thunder in my heart rise