Washing the blues around and around they go
Sometimes we don't really even know
Wishing the clues around and away they blow
Sometimes too fast
But rarely too slow
My sarcasm hides my cynical nature at best
Everybody's virtues daily are put to the test
Not easily distracted from the way like the rest
But without the ocean there would be no wavecrest
There is still hope in the darkest of night
And evil still hides in the shadows of the day
Try to look into the noon sun but it's too bright
But stray too far around midnight and lose your way
Standing amidst the piles and miles of false smiles
Pages of store-bought styles and hypocrisy in vials
And with downloaded files and all the mis-tuned dials
Through cracks between tiles
Sifting through the piles
Will the empty truth become the missing fruit
Leaves bear resemblance to the inner root
The child in the valley needs not wear the suit
The deaf man through the mirror hears the cannons shoot