Scratching The Itch

Dear heavens above. Here goes.

I looked across the water, and saw a promised land
A line to mark the gateway, a blackbird in my hand
Swearing off the thoughts that question me, I wrote them in the sand
And the day passed by without end

The door is open, the table is set
And the music is playing, lest we forget
How the days gone by never end
A thought to mark the day is less than we ought to pay
But there always will be another song to play

...
to be continued.