1985

Searching for reasons against truth,
Withholding blossom against the bloom,
I seek the golden somewhere for me,
Who told the prophets where to find,
Their dying orders hung dry on the line,
I seek that symbol, but it don’t seek me

The slow won’t beat the fast,
There’s no going back,
The heart only beats intact,
1985
1985 is feeling black

I saw the measure pour to fill the cup,
And what had spilled out, someone called it love,
We want the measure, not the flood,
So let the day break and the night stand still,
Let the Quaker try to have his fill,
No crying wolf now, not for me

Time it moves right along,
Just another selfish song,
Though the years have come and gone,
1985
1985
1985 is painted black

Some things are in your head,
Like the coming tale of death,
I shouldn’t get upset,
Or listen to a word they said
That 1985
is feeling black