.
This world's grown old, worn itself to pieces,
With parts too small to understand,
And though I know it may never happen,
We might rebuild it greater than...
These pieces,
Shattered dreams and broken hearts,
A puzzle in a billion parts,
A life of bits and pieces.
In pieces,
Will anger raise the fist again,
A rock is thrown, a window pane,
Explodes apart in pieces.
How can we do the things we do,
Have we forgotten what we knew,
Is it true?
Pieces,
The poetry of broken words, of pieces,
Pieces,
Crumpled into paper heaps and creases,
Pieces,
A flower was dissected into pieces,
The petals long have lost their blush.
I don't know why I even care,
Holes in my shoes I'm standing there,
Nowhere.
These days, these years, have drawn me under,
This heart's grown cold, becoming numb,
Yet still your eyes, so full of wonder,
Show me something that hasn't come...
To pieces,
The piano leads the better hand,
Through passages I hadn't planned,
Inside these easy pieces.
These pieces,
A shred of hope, a golden braid,
And stardust in a fine brocade,
Of everlasting pieces,
Everlasting pieces,
Everlasting,
Everlasting pieces.
Written and performed by Ron Renaud aka Ripplingmoon
Ray Garand plays electric guitar
Copyright 2013 Ron Renaud
This world's grown old, worn itself to pieces,
With parts too small to understand,
And though I know it may never happen,
We might rebuild it greater than...
These pieces,
Shattered dreams and broken hearts,
A puzzle in a billion parts,
A life of bits and pieces.
In pieces,
Will anger raise the fist again,
A rock is thrown, a window pane,
Explodes apart in pieces.
How can we do the things we do,
Have we forgotten what we knew,
Is it true?
Pieces,
The poetry of broken words, of pieces,
Pieces,
Crumpled into paper heaps and creases,
Pieces,
A flower was dissected into pieces,
The petals long have lost their blush.
I don't know why I even care,
Holes in my shoes I'm standing there,
Nowhere.
These days, these years, have drawn me under,
This heart's grown cold, becoming numb,
Yet still your eyes, so full of wonder,
Show me something that hasn't come...
To pieces,
The piano leads the better hand,
Through passages I hadn't planned,
Inside these easy pieces.
These pieces,
A shred of hope, a golden braid,
And stardust in a fine brocade,
Of everlasting pieces,
Everlasting pieces,
Everlasting,
Everlasting pieces.
Written and performed by Ron Renaud aka Ripplingmoon
Ray Garand plays electric guitar
Copyright 2013 Ron Renaud