Christy Moore Changes
Sit by my side come as close as the air sharing a
memory of grey,
Wander in my world, dream about the pictures I play, of
changes.
Green leaves of summer turn red in the fall to brown
and to yellow they fade.
Then they have to die and drop within the circle grand
parade of changes.
Scenes of my young years are warm in my mind visions of
shadows that shine,
'til one day I return and find they were the victims of
the vines of changes.
The world is spinning madly adrift in the dark, it
swings through a hollow of haze,
a race around the stars, a journey through the universe
ablaze with changes.
Moments of magic will glow through the night all fears
of the forest are gone.
When the morning breaks they're swept away like golden
drops of dawn by changes.
Oceans will part to a strange melody, as fires will
sometimes burn cold.
Like water in the wind we are puppets to the silver
strings of changes.
Our tears will be trembling when we are somewhere else,
one last cup of wine we will pour.
I'll kiss you one more time and leave you on the
rolling river shore of changes.
