Fugitives of Time
Ink on a page,
dry and cold
A million stories
waiting to be told
I set the ink,
I turn the key
And let it drift
across the sea
Now it is published,
written in stone
Out in the wild,
out on its own (out on its own) No turning back,
the words have aligned
No longer only mine
Read by the strangers
under the light
Shared in the quiet
hours of the night
Every phrase has found its space
Leaving a trace,
a warm embrace
Now it is published,
written in stone
Out in the wild,
out on its own (out on its own) No turning back,
the words have aligned
No longer only mine
No longer mine (hummmm) Just a memory
left behind