A man, a visionary, imprisoned in the realm of day; broken but being rebuilt, as the world just fades away.
Hard to walk amongst the living, when one has walked amongst the dead, voices echo through this life, as generations come, and pass.
The salty tides, and ocean waves, have heard the cry's of broken slaves, have sent many men to early graves, and has existed earth eternal.
Life before the light we live, we're taught to share, and love, and give, we're taught to hate, and take, and lie,
a life lived of contradictions.
In the end the trumpets sound, the dead will rise to takes position, war between the day and night, tiss the poets earthly vision.
Gold will have the weight of stone, a man shall not have to slave to own, God will be the peace within, the serpent will be sacred.
To see into the futures present, lets me know we are not peasants, lets me know life has a meaning, more than just an old dog dreaming.
Rocking in my rocking chair, sitting, thinking, I'm write here, let's me know there is a meaning, rocking, rocking, rocking, rocking.