Flowers Of Fortune
(By Ruairidh Anderson)
In the mist of the morning, in the light of the moon,
In the colours of winter or June,
A boy and his footsteps for man with his war of ideas,
Dances through the streets to the beat of destiny’s tune.
Oh the hands of fate and time with its rolling days,
Can raise an army of flags and build a man to stamp his name on an age.
But those winds of change, the setting sun as it hides its face,
Can turn the flower of fortune in bloom to weeds of decay.
The promise of glory, the sting of defeat,
Safe in the pockets of a child on the street.
Over the valleys, over the highest of peaks,
The echo of his steps builds a wave that makes the mightiest weak.
Oh the hands of fate and time with its rolling days,
Can raise an army of flags and build a man to stamp his name on an age.
But those winds of change, the setting sun as it hides its face,
Can turn the flower of fortune in bloom to weeds of decay.
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