| From the depth of the pacific
|
| To the height of everest
|
| And still the world is smoother
|
| Than a shiny ball-bearing
|
| So I take a few steps back
|
| And put on a wider lens
|
| And it changes your skin,
|
| Your sex, and what your wearing
|
| Distance shows your silloutte
|
| To be a lot like mine
|
| Like a sphere is a sphere
|
| And all of us here
|
| Have been here all the time
|
| You brought me to church,
|
| Cinder blocks, flourescent light
|
| You brought me to church
|
| At 7oclock on a sunday night
|
| And the band was rocking
|
| And the floors were scrubbed clean
|
| And everybody had a tambourine
|
| So I took a deep breath and became
|
| The white girl with the hair
|
| And you sat right beside me While everybody stared
|
| And through the open window
|
| I think the singing went outside
|
| And floated up to tell
|
| All the stars not to hide
|
| Cuz by the time church let out
|
| The sky was much clearer
|
| And the moon was so beautiful,
|
| That the ocean held up a mirror
|
| As we walked home we spoke slowly
|
| We spoke slow,
|
| And we spoke lowly
|
| Like it was taking more time
|
| Than usual to choose
|
| The words to go With your squeaky sandle shoes
|
| Like time is not a thing
|
| Thats ours to lose
|
| From the height of the pacific
|
| To the depths of everest |