God's Winter

If God within me now,
all the story told,
we run around,
(like) important mice;
just enjoy the road.
The road we call it life,
Samsara is our mode,
we live the life,
we talk the talk,
our stories must be told.
But what of it now,
why such important news?
if there's nothing special left,
why do we shine our shoes?

Get up, (for) the break of day,
stay up, (for) the promise of night,
our spirits soar,
they hit the floor,
boots trudging,
with all of our might

There has to be a way,
a plane somewhere in sight,
the lantern but our souls,
it guides as the light,
there's something there, alass
every moment that must pass,
your life, uniquely yours,
try and shed the mass.
Actions are for show,
not the way,
of those who know,
keep the truth inside,
the one you cannot hide.