Voices on the Wind Open Theme
Turning Up Cold by Ken Boe Covered in cowardice, I got drenching wet in that storm hanging over my head. Hungover forever, Donít let your body fool you into believing your soul is better. Frozen forward, iced backward, expectation sullied, the leaders march toward their shadows. Pretty simple solution, I got out my tools, and my supplies, to put a fix on the broken surface to see where the treble was at, and it was at it again, so angry, and laughing its heart out. She exits through the front door, posing for photographs. He exits through the back door, sliding between buildings, sliding between imagination and terror.