There's a hand in my pocket
searching for change.
There's a man in the mirror,
his hair's turning grey.
His first (?) crashing through the air, constant despair
and I lost my copy of Vanity Fair.
Now that you've come this far, 
(come this far)
can you accept who you are?
(Who you are)
Horizons
With eyes staring wide open, an African child
He taught me how to blink and I couldn't smile.
Then I spoke to the silence drawn with a (?), fade with a 
laughter
From the well of clear water, the remnants of hope echoed 
after
Now that hating's been done
(the hating's done)
and you've no qualms with anyone
(no qualms with anyone)
Horizons