WE MOVE AND THEN WE STOP




We move through our space and then we suddenly cease to be.
There’s really nothing to prove. We fly until we drop.
We won’t come around again, once we’ve fallen from the tree.
It’s just this simple: we move and then we stop.

There’s really nothing to prove. We fly until we drop.
It’s just this simple: we move and then we stop.


You can study a ton of Zen, searching for the key.
You can say you’re in the groove with every tear and raindrop.
But here in the world of men, it’s as simple as one-two-three.
What happens is: we move and then we stop.

You can say you’re in the groove with every tear and raindrop.
What happens is: we move and then we stop.


You’re as fragile as a wren; though your wings are not as free.
There’s a curse you can’t remove. It descends with your first lollipop.
You learn it before you’re ten; so you don’t have to learn it from me.
It’s just this simple: we move and then we stop.

There’s a curse you can’t remove. It descends with your first lollipop.
It’s just this simple: we move and then we stop.



Words and Music by Galen Green c 1979