My heart is ageing
I can see the wrinkles forming
Through its face as winds of love blow
Down the steep valley i bellow
Up the hill the echoes from below are heard
Wondering what turned it so hard
Could it be the past that was?
Or a time well wasted in wars
Still I am as patient as a vulture
Not deep in this love culture
But deep in the volumes of space
Lies a life that crawls at its own pace.