When the light burns
The heart yearns
For what we hope to be
All in good time
We will find
Its truth that sets us free
In the end we see
That our eyes
See the colours of the world in different ways
Some see skies of blue while others just see greys
We write our history
Its such a mystery
That suits conveniently
When we look we see
The apple not the tree
You know
what stays or goes
Is fast before it's slow
It will all sit
will all fit
Above or just below
The truth in what we know
Our eyes See the colours of the world in different ways
Some see skies of blue while others just see greys
We write our history
Its such a mystery
That suits conveniently
When we look we see
The apple not the tree
Our Eyes
See colours in so many different ways
All mirrored though the microscope of faith
We write our history
Its such a mystery
That suits conveniently
When we look we see
The apple not the tree