at my dining room table
a different language is spoken
everything is sweet
and nothing is broken
legs are crossed at the ankles
smiles hang in frames

these people from pictures
they're not yet burned
I've not yet heard

Oh, no, thank you.
Well, maybe a drink.
I've come a long way.

we don't seem so different anymore
breaking through the walls
floating down the steps
and crashing down the hall
they bounce around from ear to ear
or so I think
until they're here