Here's a place we all pass through - not always voiced.
AT THE WELL
I look past the pictures on the T V screen.
They move and change. I really don't know why.
I'm too tired to guess. Don't know what they mean.
I drift away to where I cannot fly.
Memories and longings, drifting through the mind.
'Used-to-bes' and 'maybes', flit like butterflies.
I'm too tired to stop it. Let it all unwind.
I'm not sure what's foolish, and what's wise.
(Chorus)
Looking in the well, echoing and still.
I don't have a bucket I can use.
Effort is too much. I can't even touch.
I'm too tired to even have the blues.
Watching all the pictures - pass across the screen,
I don't even wonder what it's for...
much less find a reason explaining what it means,
or if it even matters anymore.
I'll just go to sleep. Let it all roll by.
Wonder if God ever feels this way ?
I could understand. No need to wonder why.
But then - tomorrow is another day.
(Chorus)
When sun shines in the well, then it's cool and still.
Maybe I can find a bucket then,
to water this poor empty soul, and feel the heart's remembered glow,
even join the living once again.
( © 1998-"Future Folk" Music - Betty Curtis )
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