In the corridor
The shadows are long
And it messes with my equilibrium
And there's strains of a strange language
Up on the bluff
Where the hardwoods jut
Out toward the gusts of history
My crusty mind cracks
My restless heart tracks
The fractal lines of history
In the corridor
The shadows are long
And it messes with my equilibrium
And there's strains of a strange language
In the corridor
The shadows are long
And it messes with my equilibrium
And there's strains of a strange language