Touching Hands

Touching my hand as the hours turn to sand,
And fall through the glass at my feet,
We`re falling through time as the clock starts to chime,
And we wait for each others heart beat.

Turning to dust, in this world we all must
Eventually return to the ground,
And settle beneath both the snow and the wreath
In the silence of winterland sounds.

Try as we might, we could stand up and fight
And tear the great clock from the wall,
But still the world sighs and the tears in my eyes
Will dissolve into nothing at all.

But above the grey skies to the sun the bird flies,
From the clouds of her winter she roams,
From the dark of the night and again to the light,
Like the sun, in her glory, she grows.

And you`re touching my hand, as the years turn to sand,
And they fall at the glass at my feet.
there will always be pain, but my love will remain
Till again, in the Heavens we meet