I’ll find meaning in the wind again
I’ll find meaning in the wind

Abandoned I’ll be taken up and moved
Letting myself become yellow with August
I’ll find meaning in the wind

When my motor fails and its rhythm is tripped
The tin begins to squeak it’s empty squeal
I’ll find meaning in the wind

In the last afterthought of sunset’s
Over eager fingers night on skin
The hungry mouth of Fall not far behind

I’ll rouse myself and shudder to the yawn
Somewhere outside of Kansas’ aching sprawl
Outside of suburbs’ storm of the routine

I’ll find the zephyr’s force has filled my mouth
And I will find my meaning in the wind