A cripple on his deathbed and the daydream he did ride,
All past the streams of fire on a pedal path did glide,
He left his wheelchair spinning deeper in the mud.
in it set its memories, its body and its blood.
An angel came to greet him by his side she flew,
whispered as a part of him what he already knew,
his head was spinning freely and it was plain to see,
this burden was himself, he bore, the sight his eyes can see.
His death, it died quite easily, right there was gone for good,
but couldn't see his loved one, like he thought he should
he thought "if they were gone", said he, "then this cannot be true"
the search to find what wasn't there, is what brought him back to you.
All past the streams of fire on a pedal path did glide,
He left his wheelchair spinning deeper in the mud.
in it set its memories, its body and its blood.
An angel came to greet him by his side she flew,
whispered as a part of him what he already knew,
his head was spinning freely and it was plain to see,
this burden was himself, he bore, the sight his eyes can see.
His death, it died quite easily, right there was gone for good,
but couldn't see his loved one, like he thought he should
he thought "if they were gone", said he, "then this cannot be true"
the search to find what wasn't there, is what brought him back to you.