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• Artiste: Tapestry
• Titre: Spilling Sand
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Those funny feelings floating friction or not, whisper or talk, we're inside and it's all I know I hate spilling time I wish my days could play out like some dark masquerade, with a mask on my face I'd begin to move and quit dancing in place I know I can't ever get all that time back again, so I'll back track my steps and try to ease my little way back into then, when those lines were fuzzy like my grandfather's style My warmth trapped inside, more than enough to get me through the winter Though I always had my friends by my side, distractions ran wild while everything became a bit more rigid I should have known in the frigid air, froze up when I was lacking the hands, I wanna thaw out, got my mind on that sand More concerned with messing with my mind, then the constant press of time A wasp in the winter I'm nowhere to be found I silenced my buzz and was forced underground to suffer through time in the absence of sound Familiar with hindsight, yea we talk every day, I say silence ain't gold if you've got things to say And the shake in my voice is reflecting that weight You frequent my bedroom and whisper in my ear but you're valuable wisdom remains an idea, so you can fall back behind cause' for now I'm in the clear