In the winter of her life
She stands alone in the cold
Filled with old memories and forgotten dreams
Worn by time and storm
A new Dream slips in and
warms her heart
Rebirth of the soul of creation
The muse of Spring will come after all.
We live in a time of whiskey and wine…
Living on the edge of an old thin line.
Even as life swiftly passes us by…
We live with ourselves through an image of lies.
Look through the glass to see the reflection of age…
Entangling our hearts into fits of rage.
A vision of youth dances through your mind…
But the reality is it has left you behind.