Dion Soft Parade Of Years
I've lost myself in lips that taste of summer,
and left the tribes of children far behind;
now cities seem to open just like flowers
as I sit down to watch the clocks unwind.
This wanderlust no longer overtakes me
and each shadow on my pillow disappears,
so I watch the caravan of time go by
and listen for the soft parade of years.
The seasons move like wild rushing water.
I listen to the million sounds of night.
All my friendships ripen into love now;
and age has made the passing years look bright.
The key they're playing trembles with my heartbeat.
A happy tear falls slowly then takes flight,
and far beyond the ragged edge of skyline
the soft parade of years rolls out of sight
