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The river moves, the hills remain,
The fields are bending with the grain,
The clock may spin but I'm not bound,
I plant my steps on solid ground.
The heavy rain has washed the lane,
The puddle holds the sky again,
We splash across in running shoes,
And every splash is time we use.
We try to catch the falling leaves,
But every one of them believes
They carry seasons in their hue,
And teach us what a day can do.
The river moves, the hills remain,
The fields are bending with the grain,
I will not beg the hours to slow,
I'll shape my path from what I know.
The river moves, the hills remain,
The fields are bending with the grain,
The clock may spin but I'm not bound,
I plant my steps on solid ground.
We try to catch the falling leaves,
But every one of them believes
They carry seasons in their hue,
And teach us what a day can do.
The river moves, the hills remain,
The fields are bending with the grain,
I will not beg the hours to slow,
I'll shape my path from what I know.
The river moves, the hills remain,
The fields are bending with the grain,
The clock may spin but I'm not bound,
I plant my steps on solid ground.
