And now,

There are moments in the quiet dead of life, that never make less sense. When we smile through the raindrops and cry through summer's splendor. Than perhaps once more we'll dance, the radio DJ never dedicating the tune. Sing songs that sprun the heartache, forever watching flowers in bloom. Once a time, a time ago, you left nothing behind but your memory. Then danced the scars of tomorrow, the smiles and blessing today. Giving all permission to harvest the memories captured by grace. Twelve steps to the door 4,5,6,7,8 pirouetting the raindrops of hell. Then perhaps once more we'll dance. The radio DJ never dedicating the tune. Sing songs that spurn the heartache forever watching flowers in bloom.