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Black flies on the windowsill That we are That we are to know Winter stole summer's thrill And the river's cracked and cold See the sky is no man's land A darkened plume to stay Hope here needs a humble hand Not a fox found in your place And no man is an island, oh this I know But can't you see, oh? Maybe you were the ocean, when I was just a stone Black flies on the windowsill That we are That we are to hold Comfort came against my will And every story must grow old Still I'll be a traveler A gypsy's reins to face But the road is wearier With that fool found in your place And no man is an island, oh this I know But can't you see, oh? Maybe you were the ocean, when I was just a stone So here we are... And I don't wanna beg your pardon And I don't wanna ask you why But if I was to go my own way Would I have to pass you by?
Facial Hair: VOLKSTONE Mike Facial Hair @ The Man Cave Event