Forgotten and pulled outside
It’s nothing serious
But it appears I’ve found the truth
Sitting all leather bound
Kept like a wedding ring
The beaten sons eternal youth
I like the fog in December
And the snow that falls
On parked cars where I remember
Going home
So long ago
The myths were all written off
As merely age-old tales
Full of everything but truth
The lines kept circling
Back upon themselves
Until there was nowhere left to move
But back to the start
The tree that holds us now
From what’s below us down