The hand that guides me

The hand that guides me hides itself away from prying minds and defines itself in trickling sands of time so sublime, this feeling reeling outwards away from anything every ring the bell strikes rests upon my finger some will glitter some will linger In my heart, there is a place which is open to this race of mice and men - we turn again Oh, do not ask! It is disgraceful tracing back the patterns of my longing some deserved, and some were wrongings but the best is yet to come step to the march of a different drum Enticing me, the pricing of a cup of love seems not so steep but cheaply, friend, is not the way to go Don't ask - Don't know We weep for all the things not gotten While the things we have have rotten Don't be so shy Don't tell me why Just cry and then let's go Mark Burton 8/8/2005