Higher Ground
©2009 Pilar French (BMI)

Seven years ago, the dove flew out the door
And down the road and round the bend
Never to be seen again.
I turn my eyes up to the sky
To where the crow flies in the wind,
Seek a bearing for my plan.

Silence wakes inside my skin
And I begin to mend the fences
Of the ones who long to know my chances.

Years of troubled times, trapped behind the boundary lines
Define the crimes of who I am supposed to be.
But I am shedding off this skin
And I throw it to the wind.
Time to begin again.

Silence quakes inside my skin
And I begin to mend the fences
Of the ones who long to know my chances.

Twenty miles to go, gotta set a course of action.
Taking in the view, what a sweet distraction.
Twenty miles to go, dig our heals in for some traction.
Finally taking in the view, as we head for
Higher ground, Higher ground.

Tides of changing times
Trapped behind blue skies, a disguise of who we’re supposed to be.
But we’re shedding of this skin
And we throw it to the wind.
Time to begin again.

Silence quakes inside my skin
And I begin to mend the fences
Of the ones who long to know my chances.

Twenty miles to go, gotta set a course of action.
Taking in the view, what a sweet distraction.
Twenty miles to go, dig our heals in for some traction.
Finally taking in the view, gonna head for
Higher ground, Higher ground.