| at a small time junction or a downtown street we are watching the waves like before just to see when the tide is right the illusion of taking flight the illusion of all that we've been being over and ourselves still being here the illusion of sailors the illusion of stars the illusion of who we've been not knowing who we are it's a simple rhythm when you start again each time you walk out of a door and you don't go back in and the lost and the running and the found and the gone they all know the road at night the sensation of taking flight the feeling that all that they've been has blown over and they themselves are still there counting as sailors counting by stars counting on who they've been not knowing who they are at a small time junction or a downtown street... |