PASSING CLOUD
Night after night, day after day
The clock on the wall ticks the hours away
What remains is the blink of an eye
Theres so much and yet so little to say
So many memories that time blew away
All theyve left is a hole in the sky
Is that what we are
What were all about
The changing shape of a passing cloud
On the shelf stands a picture of a man and his wife
From a faraway world, in some far away life
Now he hardly remembers her name
Family and friends, most of them gone
But the clock on the wall is still ticking on
Like the words to an endless refrain
Is that what we are
What were all about
The changing shape of a passing cloud
Is that what we are
What were all about
The changing shape of a passing cloud
