Pour Myself into the Sand

Another really old song from the cow book. It's hard to put a lot of the older stuff in order because I started in the cow book, but once my friend found out I was writing, he bought me the leather-bound journal. From then on, I just wrote in whatever was closest to me when the feeling struck. It also doesn't help that I used to skip pages between songs and then ended up writing on the blank pages that I had skipped. Some songs I can timeline because of what they're about, but for the most part, it's lost on me. ::shrug:: Guess it doesn't matter...

Anyway, this old song feels a little unfinished. I didn't really nominate anything for a chorus, and the structure of the first two verses is different than the second two. ::shrug:: Again... guess it doesn't matter.

Pour Myself Into the Sand

I remember the clouds that cried that day
When luck turned and walked away
But I can't recall the sun that fell
...is it speaking
...is it speaking to me?

I guess it doesn't matter.

I take a walk along the pilings
To gather what took place that day
The wind whispers to me her secrets
...past my cap turned backwards
...from the moments of that day.

I guess it doesn't matter.

The salt reminds me of the sting
that still resides in my lungs.
I hold my head down low to hide my eyes
from a sun that isn't there.

I guess it doesn't matter.

Well, should I pour myself into the sand
and hold the hand of the one that made it?
Or would that seem childish of me?
Guess it doesn't matter, I'll never know.

I guess it doesn't matter.