When the lights went out in town,
all the speakers stayed,
played on a'blaring
proverbs from your mouth.
You sung 'sweet caress,'
reached through the reverb,
somewhere else in time,
with your hands and mouth
and feet a'clapping
backbeats through my spine
in the basement of my understanding.
So he split some trees just to watch them burn
and the fire brought together everyone he loved.
If I had not loved him, I would not hurt.
He was living for the thrill until he lived no more.
But he rode so far on his broken bike.
There were seven little babies that were born that night.
But the night grew parched and it swallowed life.
But he said he'd be reborn into a beam of light.
Beyond the purposelessness clause,
beside the restless landing,
he flung young listlessness aside.
Man, I appreciate those sighs,
but truths are honest sparrows
tapping with beaks on bedroom windows.
Beyond the path trap set and sold,
beside the bloated trash bin,
he found the basement to be fine.
He set a tent up in his room.
Man, I appreciate those sighs,
but truths are honest sparrows
tapping with beaks on bedroom windows.
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