Flowing
Norman Blake
going to chase the sun from east to west
if love's a wave i'm riding on the crest
everything i want's within my grasp
it's time to nail my colours to the mast
new rivers flowing
reaching for the sea
the scattered seeds we're sowing
the fruit is on the tree
waiting for the winter to abate
a chance to start again and wipe the slate
the bitter taste that doesn't go away
the shimmer of the headlights in the grey
