Bad Timing.

Bad Timing

I like to sleep beneath the wings
of doves that fly so high,
it wasn't me i hadn't learned it then
a thing about wrong time,
this is a stand, just one night
doesn't mean it has be your last,
and then we die, over the side
lets fall in and talk about the surf
windy trees stitching Wendy shadows
on our eyes
it couldn't be i hadn't learnt it then
that's the trick, you see it once then its gone
just a little thing about wrong time.