you make your vision plain in every word
the pulse of nature moving in full heat
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

nothing is clear all eyesight is quite blurred
the trip is over none will come to greet
you make your vision plain in every word

since on your tongue all truth has been conferred
but this hard fact we're made of bone and meat
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

proclaiming season's changes have recurred
but time is motion every year more fleet
you make your vision plain in every word

including those that we have not yet heard
break out of silence still our peace is sweet
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

to wake the morning and to cry absurd
notes of redemption for each empty street
you make your vision plain in every word
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird