the broken glass that fades
the past is a parade of contless days
painting patterns in the sand

my motorcycle brain
remains to be explained
its like a summer rain
pictures passing through a field
blowing into the horizon

watching the shadows on the wall
tell me can you se my thoughts
watching the shadows on the wall
have you seen it all before

I need a friendly hand
someone who understand me
by the river bed
when there is nothing to be said, anyway
its all inside your head
you know it

watching the shadows on the wall
tell me can you se my thoughts
watching the shadows on the wall
have you seen it all before, before, before

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