The Search Songtext
von Belle Adair

Shot through the middle of your mind
Like a rook flying wild in the springtime
You want answers well you can′t afford them
You want clues all you do is distort them

You whisper that your life's the chorus
To a tune that′s become so obvious
And your gospel has gone without warning
While your song it plays on in the morning


As still as the wind on a Sunday
On a hill where you're plotting your escape
You tie up your loose ends with wire
Hold fear in your hand like it's fire

And the voices of stones cannot sway you
The reasons of men will betray you
And you look to the North Star for guidance
As the search it′s begun here in earnest

And I will not find you in the burning fields of September
And I will not remind you of the promises you don′t remember
All that we seek is what we are given