Furslide Postcard
There’s a breeze in the air
Clawing for attention and the blink of an eye
Well I had a clue way before it took a hold of me, but
Lost in my dreams I believed in my divinity
Once upon a time there was a girl who sang poems
Woven for the shivers of the tattered children’s
corners
And she is scolded my intentional lack of concentration
She pointed out my gibberish was leaving smudges at the
edges
And I said “bask in the glorious blur of shattered
borders
And don’t be surprised at my callousness to callers
I’m coming closer to the light so bright
And the story that I’ve written to them all ends in a
postcard
Postcard, postcard, postcard”
Well the walls crashing down and I’m trapped by
indecision
The choice is all mine, it overwhelms my sense of
vision and the sweetness,
The sweetness of my freedom was buried and the breeze
spreads the dust like disease
The story that I’ve written to them all ends with a
postcard, a postcard
The story that I’ve written to them all ends with a
postcard, a postcard
The story that I’ve written to them all ends with a
postcard
And that cryptic written message says I wish you were
here
The story that I’ve written to them all ends with a
postcard, a postcard
