Brett Anderson

Plans, all those intricate plans,
Left like gloves on the railings,
Slipping through your hands.
Clouds, those impossible clouds
Are gathering now.
Soar like a love song
That stutters, life-long
Unsung
Soar like a swallow,
That cycles life-long
Unsung
And it's all in your head,
And it's all in your head,
And it's all,
Slipping through your hands