the phantom land

it will be difficult to arrive
in the phantom land
a vast expanse of ice
that is moving
underneath

and we point our compass north
but the water is moving us the
other direction
it is 45 degrees below
and i cannot feel my fingers anymore

it will be difficult to arrive
in the phantom land
white snow white light
white stars
in the sky
in the phantom land
our failure
may be our success
in the end

the dogs have dense and heavy coats
the skis are sharp and help us
get half way to where we want to go
until we find out that the map is wrong
those islands don't exist
where we thought they were

it will be difficult to survive
until we reach
the phantom land
and i think i dreamed it only in my head
after four months without daylight
you doubt yourself

but to my great imagination
i saw you waving your hat
your hands
and you had a boat to save us
even though your journey had not gone
the way you planned
we climbed aboard
set sail for home

no more searching for
the phantom land

the cycle of things

don't hold on so hard
there are some things
you have to let go

they are made for other
times
other places they must go
in the

cycle of things
the sun the moon sweet spring
will wake me up again

and when you had it in your hand
you held it far too tight
the feathers fell and softly
drifted off

to fly it needs to be set free
right now
in the

cycle of things
the sun the moon sweet spring
will wake me up again

oh herald winter
the frost the sparkling ice
dormant underneath the snow
but feel the warmth
bring it all
to the surface

so now you watch it fly
swift wings up high
against the blue

and see here on the ground
the new little shoot
has broken through
in the

cycle of things
the sun the moon sweet spring
in the
cycle of things
the sun the moon sweet spring
will wake me up again