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Sitting by a fence post and I don't know what to do. The river is heading West and the East is calling too. I twirled my thumbs and kicked a can to wind up in this place. I wish I had a mirror to reveal a hidden face. What am I suppose to do? Which Road leads to you? I try and try and I don't know why I guess I need a sign of which road leads to you. A wise old owl above my head just turned away to laugh. A spotted crow is picking at the shadow on my back. I scratch my chin and flip a coin with hopes of catching a tail. The bluff is high on this mountain side and I'm quite afraid to scale. Chorus The old ancient one in the hill has decided that there is more than one world. That life goes on regardless of any spirit flight or any earthly shell. In regard to pain and suffering well... it is pretty hard to say what will hurt worse. I could just sit around and watch as opportunities pass me by or take my first step and allow myself to be vulnerable to the elements. Now whose voice is it out there that keeps on calling me home? Whose voice cuts so clear and so deep on this late autumn breeze? What was I thinking held life's meaning when I was alone? Who are you to tell me now of things I do not know. If method holds a madness in this relationship of choice then lift the gates wide open and lead me to that voice. Chorus |