|
Tim Vesely |
|
All the clouds get together and watch. |
|
All the trees gather around us |
|
And grow up together and watch. |
|
A stream, a succession, a parade |
|
Of fists before teeth, |
|
Before eyes and ideas are made. |
|
... But the eyes that are burrowed are weak. |
|
It's the ones that can't see |
|
Are the ones who will know I am weak. |
|
While the fighting gets done, |
|
Nothing gets won. |
|
And it is my nature to fight. |
|
Whatever I've said is a challenge, |
|
And it must be denied. |
|
But it's easy to see no one wins. |
|
If someone had won, we'd have heard long ago. |
|
No one wins. |
|
While the fighting gets done, |
|
Nothing ever gets won. |
|
All in a row |
|
We will go. |
|
Now there's nothing more to do. |
|
Whatever I say, |
|
I hear it fade away. |
|
All the clouds get together and cry. |
|
All the trees in the wind wave good-bye. |
|
Bye, bye. All in a row. |
