Michael Woodhead


Written & Composed by Michael Woodhead
Copyright © 1969, 2017

Hot, flaming lava flows from crevices deep
I climb the hills about which seem to be steep
It burns my feet and chars my hands
As I walk about in 3-D lands

Hot, flaming gases blow from crevices deep
I try to stop the tears, but always do I weep
It makes my hands sweat and makes me crawl
I want to hide my form from all

I seek some shlter, there's none to be found
I keep on walking back and forth, and then around
Stuns my senses; all things blue
I seem to fall away from her

And now, my mind is growing dim
He's left and taken her with him
Surrounds me as I seek shelter free
But, firestone is all around me