Rolling thunder’s behind the rains,
Sunshine’s passed in the days before,
The golden amber waves of grain
Have long been swept under the floor.
The marching bands have disappeared
Along the avenues of time,
And leftovers have now been cleared
From the clouded ruins of mind.
Pathways run in and out the fog,
Moving slow underneath the sky,
Gravel grinds at a wheels cog,
Knows now he was ne’er meant to fly.
Memories been left in the clay,
Much further back on sacred ground,
They’ll be there for another day,
Waiting patiently to be found.
One lone bleeding heart beats faint
As the night comes rolling in,
No face on this road looks quaint,
There’s not one that wears a grin.
But all of that’s now passing
Along thunder’s avenue,
Where time is everlasting
And somehow one makes it through.