through the hope springs a new where as others haven’t a clue
we embark on a journey pressed to no where
it’s hard to discover your path to take some certain fate
in columns of briars taunt for aster
the quest lead to its premonition
engulfed on a cycle proned to violence

Cat Stevens had his turn tables to turn
burning bridges thought of discerning
keep on learning heads are turning
something stirring in the wind
grow to depend
a fawn nor a friend
yet in the end