Rings

Are you the plane that shapes the board Part of a history, smoothed and worn And oh, the windy weather Dry spells, brushfire Isn't it strange to see my life You must cut me down to look inside And oh, the simple pleasures This ring tells of rain and this one's summer Good years, nightmares How is it I remember knowing that I would live forever Isn't it strange how truth can change And oh, the windy weather This ring tells of rain, this one's summers Dry spells, brushfire