To the point that I am simply moving
In a slow motion kind of rhythm
And it has me wondering
Where has the inspiration to write gone?
Is it in the rain?
Or gone with the wind?
Will I find it in the window mirror?
Maybe it's in dreamland?
Summer's slow pace has overtaken me
To the point that I am simply moving
In a slow motion kind of rhythm
And it has me wondering
Where has the inspiration to write gone?
Is it in the rain?
Or gone with the wind?
Will I find it in the window mirror?
Maybe it's in dreamland?
To the point that I am simply moving
In a slow motion kind of rhythm
And it has me wondering
Where has the inspiration to write gone?
Is it in the rain?
Or gone with the wind?
Will I find it in the window mirror?
Maybe it's in dreamland?