Those Castles in Spain
Well it's easy to get a little sentimental when you get a few years on your bones,
The future seems like some naïve cure and the past is still throwing stones,
But memory is your only tool to work the nature of time,
Meaning is a contortionist and your reasons just become excuses that rhyme.
The future started so long ago,
A brooding bride of the first rain,
The flesh of which you may never know,
Just like those castles in Spain.
As the universe becomes a world; you struggle for ways to make the same old thing feel new,
You accept the shrug of gravity and stop wondering why the sky is blue,
And the days go by in suspended animation; slow planets in the lens,
And every desire lost in the comet's tail turns the list of has- beens.
The future started so long ago,
A brooding bride of the first rain,
The flesh of which you may never know,
Just like those castles in Spain.
Ah; but life is a poor poet that always seems to rhyme when it should reason,
And vice-versa-verse that always seems to be out of sync with the build of the season,
We never realize that dreaming is a side effect of sleeping,
And the hours of the dreams eternal are not within our keeping.
The future was here just yesterday,
See where it left a shadow stain,
If it's not used it simply fades away,
Just like those castles in Spain.
The future seems like some naïve cure and the past is still throwing stones,
But memory is your only tool to work the nature of time,
Meaning is a contortionist and your reasons just become excuses that rhyme.
The future started so long ago,
A brooding bride of the first rain,
The flesh of which you may never know,
Just like those castles in Spain.
As the universe becomes a world; you struggle for ways to make the same old thing feel new,
You accept the shrug of gravity and stop wondering why the sky is blue,
And the days go by in suspended animation; slow planets in the lens,
And every desire lost in the comet's tail turns the list of has- beens.
The future started so long ago,
A brooding bride of the first rain,
The flesh of which you may never know,
Just like those castles in Spain.
Ah; but life is a poor poet that always seems to rhyme when it should reason,
And vice-versa-verse that always seems to be out of sync with the build of the season,
We never realize that dreaming is a side effect of sleeping,
And the hours of the dreams eternal are not within our keeping.
The future was here just yesterday,
See where it left a shadow stain,
If it's not used it simply fades away,
Just like those castles in Spain.
Credits
Writer(s): Michael Mcguire
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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