The First of November

These illusions of necessity, wisdom etched inside my memory, flashing and passing through, sparking the flame inside this weary heart. She'll brave the cold, following the yellow road. Spiraling through the strings of time where limit is a lie, the only way we'll make it is to aim high. We're fragile beings fighting for a place to make a stand, close your eyes, breathe a sigh, take my hand.