| The wind pulls me around
|
| And everything it touches turns weak
|
| An antique or an eyelash stuck to your cheek
|
| The paper thin skin of a crowd chasing you
|
| Down a long and dead-end trail
|
| With a guilt no alibi can curtail
|
| The world is held together by the wind
|
| That blows through gena rowlands hair
|
| Land ahoy I fill my weak lungs with this joy
|
| Dizzy on the deck I hope I last until we land
|
| With an envelope burning a hole in my hand
|
| Bearing the names of the winners who walked away
|
| From the games that the slaves love to play
|
| To replace the air and the sea
|
| Leaving you no way to fly to me The world is held together by the wind
|
| That blows through gena rowlands hair
|
| Through the window
|
| The warm summer air does a two-step
|
| I wish there was some way I could keep it And clear away the mission street in my head that
|
| Keeps this watery weariness in our bed and
|
| Sets up more windmills that Ill waste my time missing
|
| When it should just be your lips that Im kissing
|
| Dont tell me that you dont hear
|
| The clock ticking on the shelf by our bed its near
|
| Theres a light turning green just like fear
|
| Theres a light that turns green
|
| And leaves us without a prayer
|
| The world is held together by the wind
|
| That blows through gena rowlands hair |