My thoughts they wander right tothe

My thoughts they wander right to
the edges and back again restless
Probably what they call melancholy
where everything catches a tinge of gray
Like it’s goanna rain any time all the time
If I din’t do something which
I doubt if I would Time
will just tickle like it always do
Only this time I know how it drains away tasteless and empty
Say how do I jolt pensive quietness
Good old friend melancholy how you came to me brought by the wind
Or is it the stirrings of what he said to me
The stirrings of something
he said turning my whole world a windy day
Turning my whole world a windy day