| Windmills cut through the void
|
| Dividing the imagined and true
|
| The eyes neglect to see what the heart pursues
|
| But my heart finds a dream in these unseen hues
|
| In the untouchable
|
| That’s not to say that I don’t feel the limitations
|
| And the drop from the expectation
|
| It’s not naïve but the heart of creation
|
| It’s the only thing proven true to me
|
| When the fire’s burnin' from sky to ground
|
| Swing my weight around, begin the windstorm
|
| When the fire’s burnin' from sky to ground
|
| Swing my weight around, begin the windstorm
|
| When the fire’s burnin' from sky to ground
|
| Swing my weight around, begin the windstorm
|
| When the fire’s burnin' from sky to ground
|
| Swing my weight around, begin the windstorm
|
| Time past has thrown shadows
|
| Over my shoulder that as ghosts owned
|
| Movement of my desires lost like a stone
|
| Cast as a wish into a well with no sound
|
| No answer at the end
|
| How can I say it’s wrong to feel the limitations
|
| And the drop from the expectation
|
| It’s not naive but the heart of creation
|
| It’s the only thing proven true to me
|
| When the fire’s burnin' from sky to ground
|
| Swing my weight around, begin the windstorm
|
| When the fire’s burnin' from sky to ground
|
| Swing my weight around, begin the windstorm
|
| When the fire’s burnin' from sky to ground
|
| Swing my weight around, begin the windstorm
|
| When the fire’s burnin' from sky to ground
|
| Swing my weight around, begin the windstorm |