Indio
Seasons of the Lost
It is the season of the lostof desert hopes and dreams of rain and sandA wonder for witness and for worththat lies in waiting on this open groundFor the celebration of a distant songof ten wakes from one waveWith God as my witness I have triedFor a closed eye knows a different solitudeBut with that sky above that warand that same sun sets on meI let the legends and the tallest talesfall through disappointed handsSome will die trying and some will seethe sharpest thorns felt are never seenWhen the dream is over and the truth is toldthe sweetest word spoke is never knownSome Nostradamus hear these wordsAnd take the ruins from this broken sightAnd to the servants and the czarsThe pious and the fallen graceFor in this sun there is no shineSo be still my wandering friendWhy stand the virtue of some miracleto hold the beauty in these handsSome will die trying and some will seethe sharpest thorns felt are never seenWhen the dream is over and the truth is toldthe sweetest word spoke is never known
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