Rings

Are you the plane that shapes the board

Part of a history, smoothed and worn

And oh, the windy weather

Dry spells, brushfireIsn't it strange to see my life

You must cut me down to look inside

And oh, the simple pleasures

This ring tells of rain and this one's summer

Good years, nightmaresHow is it I remember knowing that I would live forever

Isn't it strange how truth can change

And oh, the windy weather

This ring tells of rain, this one's summers

Dry spells, brushfire