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Looking at a picture of a bird |
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From a series of books about the sea |
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and the life above and in it |
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Looking at a picture of a bird |
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Staring out the window |
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of an elevated train in a storm |
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of blossoms and debris |
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Staring out the window |
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Looking at a jumble of words |
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from something that you once wrote to me |
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you said, "I'll never leave" |
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Still you're looking at the jumble |
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Everybody's gotten their hearts burnt |
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From the turnpikes to the mud roads |
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They got nothing left to die for |
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And they got nothing left to run from |
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Heading past the ring road |
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To the place where you came from you see |
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It's not your destiny |
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Still you're heading past the ring road |
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Looking into windows |
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People got their fires lit today |
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Gonna find your own cave |
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Where you'll be looking at a picture of a bird |
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Looking at a picture of a bird |
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From a series of books about the sea |
|
and life above and in |
|
Looking at a picture of a bird |
