| And it’s blue as in cerulean
|
| It’s the scent of new mown hay
|
| Laugh and turn the pages
|
| When there’s nothing left to say
|
| And it’s true that a thing of brilliance
|
| Can be paled by dimmer light
|
| Spin the tale of ages
|
| And get me through this night
|
| Tragedy takes a number
|
| Beauty takes to flight
|
| Reason’s on vacation
|
| And it’s killing me tonight
|
| There’s a row of oleander
|
| That divides your house from mine
|
| Stifles words of anger
|
| And keeps the neighbors blind
|
| There’s a star set in the distance
|
| Of a steely cold and gray
|
| With lights on the horizon
|
| As we look the other way —
|
| And it’s blue as in cerulean
|
| It’s the scent of new mown hay
|
| Laugh and turn the pages
|
| When there’s nothing left to say
|
| And it’s true that a thing of brilliance
|
| Can be paled by dimmer light
|
| Spin the tale of ages
|
| And get us through this night
|
| Tragedy takes a number
|
| Beauty takes to flight
|
| Reason’s on vacation
|
| And it’s killing me tonight
|
| There’s a music in the silence
|
| Of a spring that plays no more
|
| A desert in our future
|
| And a knocking at the door
|
| There’s a peace for the unknowing
|
| There’s a warning to the wise
|
| A smile upon the faces of our ruin in disguise
|
| And it’s blue as in cerulean
|
| It’s the scent of new mown hay
|
| Laugh and turn the pages
|
| When there’s nothing left to say
|
| And it’s true that a thing of brilliance
|
| Can be paled by dimmer light
|
| Spin the tale of ages
|
| And get us through this night |