WESTWARD

It was more than a season

But I just cannot tell

Cause I’ve got lack of eloquence

And all the words are on the run

I glimpsed what thousand oceans

Of countless verbs have not become

Maybe I’ve made up my mind

Flying away can’t hold a candle to

Waking feeling the ground, touching the pastures of green

Avoiding all of the scheme

Of this crazy machine

I’m just in doubt moving forward

Is there still a light to the westward?

Is there still a light to the westward?