In the emptiness of existence
There is a prison
That requires persistent presence
If you wish to ever escape
We shake off our shadows
And fly like the sparrows
For it's definitely safer down below
We remove headstones
And drown in the echos
Of lawnmowers and buffalo
We walk into the woods
Sweet mistletoe growing
Sore as my hands and my back
We are born
Drawing breath
Forming stories each a little softer
For once we admit that we are lost
We can begin to really wander
Sandals soft on pavement hard
We break bread and find ourselves
Reluctant to ever dine alone