Guitar's Cry
Disciple of Pan
Worth the Time
Often
I would look out calmly -
Quietly -
Across the morning wood.
The sun would rise rosy
And I would barely feel
The dew-colored air that would still be cold.
Sometimes I would shake from the bite.
But always,
It was worth the Time.
I yearn for those days
Now that Im gone from those woods.
I think my soul goes back there when its lost.
And distantly,
It wanders the cool forest nights
Where the stars illuminate the emerald needles of those trees.
A treasure beyond any price.
Calmly. Quietly.
A fog creeps down from the hill and settles.
It lies like a cool, moist blanket
That I will cover myself in.
Often
I would look out calmly -
Quietly -
Across the morning wood.
The sun would rise rosy
And I would barely feel
The dew-colored air that would still be cold.
Sometimes I would shake from the bite.
But always,
It was worth the Time.
I yearn for those days
Now that Im gone from those woods.
I think my soul goes back there when its lost.
And distantly,
It wanders the cool forest nights
Where the stars illuminate the emerald needles of those trees.
A treasure beyond any price.
Calmly. Quietly.
A fog creeps down from the hill and settles.
It lies like a cool, moist blanket
That I will cover myself in.
) when I can. It's behind my folk's house. I only live a couple of hours away, though. So I visit often.