The Wood song
The thin horizon of a plan is almost clear,
my friends and I have had a tough time
bruising our brains hard up against change;
all the old dogs and the magician
Now I see we're in the boat in two-by-twos,
only the heart that we have for a tool we could use
and the very close quarters are hard to get used to;
love weighs the hull down with it's weight
But the wood is tired, and the wood is old,
and we'll make it fine, if the weather holds.
But if the weather holds, we'll have missed the point;
that's where I need to go.
No way construction of this tricky plan
was built by other than a greater hand
with a love that passes all our understanding
watching closely over the journey, yeah
But what it takes to cross the great divide
seems more that all the courage I can muster up inside.
But we get to have some answers when we reach the other side
The prize is always worth the rocky ride.
But the wood is tired, and the wood is old,
and we'll make it fine, if the weather holds.
But if the weather holds, we'll have missed the point;
that's where I need to go.
Sometimes I ask to sneak a closer look;
skip to the final chapter of the book
and then maybe steer us clear from some of the pain it took
to get us where we are this far.
But the question drowns in it's futility,
even I have got to laugh at me.
No one gets to miss the storm of what will be
just holding on for the ride.
But the wood is tired, and the wood is old,
and we'll make it fine, if the weather holds.
But if the weather holds, we'll have missed the point;
that's where I need to go.