There are new things.
The Earth rotates, back into the
sweet spot of sun.
The Earth rotates, back into the
sweet spot of sun.
Winter slowly creeps away, bowing to the
pink candy blossoms of spring
and me,
this heart,
bursting with unnamed creativity
of what the new, warmer season will bring.
And see there are new things,
fresh and unformed
that want to be shaken
out of my body, my fingers,
free to experience their own heartbeat
(ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump)
until it matches my own
and the new things become muscle memory
and the new things become muscle memory
and habit
and good fortune.
Stronger we are, finding one another,
creating together as no single man could do on his own.
Beating
(ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump)
to the pulse of the Earth,
to the rhythm of collective consciousness
and you, and me, become the
PERFECT POSSIBILITY.
Stronger we are, finding one another,
creating together as no single man could do on his own.
Beating
(ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump)
to the pulse of the Earth,
to the rhythm of collective consciousness
and you, and me, become the
PERFECT POSSIBILITY.
