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There's a blind man who hears angels |
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He hears them whispering inside potatoes |
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And from the curling leaves of blooming plants |
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And in the winding tracks of crawling ants |
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He stands outside under the sky |
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Listening to starlight drifting by |
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Because gravity is not the only |
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Force at work in this world |
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Just like gypsy moths and flying bugs |
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Circle around a shining bulb |
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The blind man dreams of drifting away |
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Into the darkness of outer space |
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And when he walks the city streets |
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He sprinkles the sidewalks with apple seeds |
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Because gravity is not the only |
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Force at work in this world |
