Many holes in the sand and here's where I dig mine.
To bury away the past I fear and make it hard to find.
But the sand cares not for what I feel nor what I hide away.
It always seems to come full bare and see the light of day.
So I'll have to take my trash along and see if I can see...
A way to make it art, My Friend, to make it dear to me.
And I know not where I go and know not whom I'll meet.
But if you'd like to come along, My Friend, I think that would be neat.
To see the sights and read the scenes and hear the music swell
And if you have to leave, My Friend, just know I mean you well .
Cause on this sand we walk, I know not where we'll go.
But please take this to heart, My Friend, you are very nice to know!
