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Played around with thoughts:
Bubbles and streetlights and trees that won't grow up,
Stars and the moon that's too close for comfort,
Wind that threaten to blow up the card house,
And rain that threatens to wash off the chalkboard
Washing me away...
A movement, a rush, the faintest of smilesA hope and a light a trust that’s beginningA pencil is missing, a sentence unfinishedThe writer has left his story to wither awayHow does it end?
Chorus: I'm fine, I'm fine, and everything's right I swearAlright? Alright. I may be lying, but who's to knowWho will care....
I'm not especially morose. But when someone writes a song it's usually a tiny tiny thought or feeling blown up to larger than life proportions. :)
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