the replay of a distant memory
the vision of a fading dream
time will always tell
water flows downstream
the leaf drifts with the current,
not knowing where, how, or why
the man stands ashore,
bound by the sight of his eyes
the swan sees the river,
looking down from the skies
why it starts, how it flows,
where it meets the sea and dies
when dawn breaks, the morning wakes,
the sun rises, and it becomes day
clouds are born with a thirst to cry,
gliding upwind to rain once more
water flows, rises, and pours,
and time will always tell
the replay of a distant memory
the vision of a fading dream
