Out on 9

I was walking,
out on 9,
looking down,
at the lines.

Well I’m going the wrong way again,
guess I’ve always been going the wrong way,
turn around,
maybe that’s the way back to the Mystic Shores.

Or maybe I’m lost again,
remind me,
what am I searching for,
can’t seem to find it in this fog.

Is that the face of the Angel,
in my wine,
in my dreams,
in my endless longing.

That fog,
caressing your face oh so gently,
is just her kiss,

Then someone whispered,
must be the voice of the wind,
life is always a puzzle,
you'll be fine.