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This song was written in identification with a Hospice patient.
It sounds a bit "surreal" - and is in a way.
DRIFTING AWAY

I remember enough to know that I care.
I can't picture the face anymore.
I remember the scene, but I can't recall where.
I just see the waves, rolling to shore.

I hear the song, and it's sweet in my mind,
but I can't remember it's name.
It's so familiar, but I don't know the time.
It's all like a puzzling game.

Chorus
There are flashes of scenes, and faces I know,
but I can't find the names that belong.
Days move along in a come-and-go flow,
and the wind whispers strains of old songs.
It seems faraway. It seems like a dream,
but the hand on my shoulder, I feel,
and sometimes there's pictures of scenes,
running by on an old movie reel.

There's no way to tell the feel in my brain.
It's made out of sea-foam and mist.
Maybe I'm waiting to catch the next train.
Maybe it's already missed.

But this drifting is calm, and quiets my soul.
None of it seems very real.
I'm moving on, and I don't have to know,
except it's a nice way to feel.

Chorus
There are flashes of scenes, and faces I know,
but I can't find the names that belong.
Days move along in a come-and-go flow,
and the wind whispers strains of old songs.
It seems faraway. It seems like a dream,
but the hand on my shoulder, I feel,
and sometimes there's pictures of scenes,
running by on an old movie reel.

( © 2003- "Future Folk" Music - Betty J. Curtis )

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