I moved my own large mountains, right into my path.
I know all the good say
that life is lived and then goes away,
but I see that what they know
is not all there is to be told.
There's another side
lying just behind
all the words and roses
all the promises made.
So I know that what they know
is not all there is to be told.
There's another story
begging to be sold.
There's a sign. There's a sign.
Not all is as promised, but there are signs.
I know all the bad ones say
everyone else is doing the same,
but I see that what they know
is not all there is be told.
There's a better side
lying just behind
all the words and promises
all the roses that they throw.
There's a sign. There's a sign.
And we all feel its promise, but we never dare say.
For the hush words spoken will only come in whisper:
There's a sign. There is change.
Carried on the breeze and draped across the times.
There's a sign.
