Just Passing
Mick O’Sullivan, Ronnie Lane, Steve Marriott
This feeling of spring like the wing of a bird that is flying
The nights they grow cold as my mind does grow old
And I'm looked at, inspected
Hated, accepted
The wise men they wrangle
Their minds look for angles and meaning
(Meaning!)
But the ceiling is light as I glide through the night
And I'm leaving, living, being