A joint hung those lips, eyelids pose risk for eclipse, the orchard of your mind, most thoughtfully was lined, with even greater schemes, of goals wishes and dreams, I think of things Iʼve said, I miss the road again.
I contradict myself, Iʼve heard from someone else, I felt I could relate, though from an early place, what costs lies in the brush, perhaps we shouldnʼt touch, despite what I have said, I miss the road again.
Things I owe myself, things I owe the earth, Iʼll take the road between, the best one and the worst.
And if the scale should tip, and I begin to slip, toward what I have feared, my answer is not clear, Iʼm living by the verse, and writing from the third, with all the being said, I miss the road again.
Just found this by chance in the "if you like David Stone... section" - It's a beautifully warm record, clean and smooth, but without being polished to a shine. Perfect walking-in-Autumn record. David Stone
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