The sun always comes up,

always goes back down.

The tide move’s in slowly,

without making a sound.

All the sins of the past,

the are laid here to rest.

As the wave’s wash clean this shore,

whispering, “never-more”, “never-more”.

 

On county road 59,

there’s an invisible line.

I can’t remember what ever was,

lost the urge to ask, “how come”.

Thru these fields of ancient stones,

that were mountains so long ago.

The surrender is complete,

like a blind man on his knees.

 

Those faces in the clouds,

they never seem to care,

Which way the wind is blowing.

Funny how they let you know,

that where you were before,

ain’t the same as where you are going,

…you are growing

…you are growing.

 

Secrets of the heart,

that we carry to the grave.

Those nights in the dark.

When you feel so afraid.

the beauty of the pain,

with the choice’s you make.

From the blood on the rose,

to the wine spilled on the lace.

 

Those faces in the clouds

they just don’t seem to care,

which way the wind’s been blowing.

But they always let you know

that where you were before

is not the same as where you’re going.

…You are growing

look how you are growing.

© Michael de Jong ® Dutch Uncle Music STEMRA 2005