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Description
There was a girl sat on the park bench, preaching revolution at passers-by on a sunny afternoon.
She told me I came for nothing as I took pictures of white flags hanging from nature.
She might have been right, but I knew where I was going. She was tanked on a fine wine.

Down to the river to drown out the noise, the thick roots climbing out of the banking make for a great front row and centre seat.
Someone from the past wandered by, but they never let on. Do they ever?
Seems like I had no worries to wash away. ... ... Oh, sorry! I got lost, wondering if I was still human.
It was time to go...

Alone, I found myself in the woods, laid within a bed of bluebells by a small stream.
I gazed at the late sky through the budding branches as the sun went down, knowing that the place has meaning.
These old barks they whisper their wisdom, sometimes playing tricks. Greater guides are hard to come by.

Thought about that song that hurts to hear, the one that tells me it might be too late.
I can't seem to find the courage. I wanted the girl in the park to be wrong,
even though I'd already been endarkened by another.

Maybe spring should stay a while, so it doesn't feel like time is vexed at me for taking so much from it.
Anyways... it's getting dark, and one of my tyres is flat... it got me halfway. Thanks for that.

Description
There was a girl sat on the park bench, preaching revolution at passers-by on a sunny afternoon.
She told me I came for nothing as I took pictures of white flags hanging from nature.
She might have been right, but I knew where I was going. She was tanked on a fine wine.

Down to the river to drown out the noise, the thick roots climbing out of the banking make for a great front row and centre seat.
Someone from the past wandered by, but they never let on. Do they ever?
Seems like I had no worries to wash away. ... ... Oh, sorry! I got lost, wondering if I was still human.
It was time to go...

Alone, I found myself in the woods, laid within a bed of bluebells by a small stream.
I gazed at the late sky through the budding branches as the sun went down, knowing that the place has meaning.
These old barks they whisper their wisdom, sometimes playing tricks. Greater guides are hard to come by.

Thought about that song that hurts to hear, the one that tells me it might be too late.
I can't seem to find the courage. I wanted the girl in the park to be wrong,
even though I'd already been endarkened by another.

Maybe spring should stay a while, so it doesn't feel like time is vexed at me for taking so much from it.
Anyways... it's getting dark, and one of my tyres is flat... it got me halfway. Thanks for that.