Old Bread

Tomorrow I want to feed the birds old bread.
Old bread, old life.
New life in the light of a sunrise on another horizon.
I'll kneed and roll my past into loaves of old bread and feed it to the ducks.
I'll feel clean when they fly away with my failures.
If there's no sunshine, I'll ride 'till I find it.
If you find the sun always setting on you, remember that ducks never tire of
old bread.