Rings

Are you the plane

That shapes the board

Part of a history

Smoothed and worn

And oh, the windy weather

Dry spells, brushfire

Isn't it strange

To see my life

You must cut me down

To look inside

And oh, the simple pleasures

This ring tells of rain

And this one summer

Good years, nightmares

How is it I remember

Knowing that I would live forever

Isn't it strange

How truth can change

And oh, the windy weather

This ring tells of rain

This one, summers

Dry spells, brushfire