These Old Rags

Smoother surface than before

eyes set to a different shore

But what of that which lives within this faceSweeter scent than before

renewed temptation, open door

But what of that which stirs inside this bodyMy colours have faded to gray

I know

Inside I feel the same

You've left to see a fresher show

To burn another flameWarmer weather than before

storming fire now in store

But what of the lightning we made