Words have a way of speaking to you
As if you could create meaning from objects
That fall like feathers from the tops of buildings
Could we collect the silence and place it in our bodies
Subjective fingers are bringing you eager categories
And seekers of feeling harbor no jealousy
We are those treetops in need of new itineraries
When our airline tickets fit together quite nicely
Could you believe the world is made from mind
While the majority of beings remain hungry
For the shining light which binds us to our spines
Without rhyme we’d all be lost
And rhythm is the cost of our consciousness
But first we must fatten our ducks and turkeys
And take the dog for a good long walk
We saw more than we could ever hope to talk about
And I hear the sound of ambulances and police sirens
Chasing angels through these forests
We seem to always forget who we are
And every time we talk too much about anything  
The world becomes just a little bit more lonely