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BETWEEN THE CRESTS

Why does it seem like the middle of winter,
when it's only the first week of June ?
Why does the light seem chilly and brittle ?
Why do I hear such a wistful tune ?
Trees seem glazed - leaves like metal -
surely they must clink in the wind.
Everything seems to be fading a little.
It's all growing distant and dim.

Chorus
Ah - but I know nothing's fading away.
It's just the pull of tomorrow, today.
Part of me goes. Part of me stays.
It's just the hollow between the crests of the Waves.

Sounds of the highway seem to come from afar,
not just a stroll down a neighborhood street.
It all seems as distant as some lonely star.
Hours of the day are phantom and fleet.
I follow routine, like a path through a wilderness,
listen for songbirds, and sounds of the stream.
Music comes through, with the old touch of tenderness,
coaxing the Hope of tomorrow's bright dream.

Chorus
Ah - but I know, nothing's fading away.
It's just the pull of tomorrow, today.
Part of me goes. Part of me stays.
It's just the hollow between the crests of the Waves.

( © 1998 - "Future Folk" Music - Betty Curtis )

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Surreal Songs