| Looking at a picture of a bird
|
| From a series of books about the sea
|
| And the life above and in it
|
| Looking at a picture of a bird
|
| Staring out the window
|
| Of an elevated train in a storm
|
| Of blossoms and debris
|
| Staring out the window
|
| Looking at a jumble of words
|
| From something that you once wrote to me
|
| You said, «I'll never leave»
|
| Still you’re looking at the jumble
|
| Everybody’s gotten their hearts burnt
|
| From the turnpikes to the mud roads
|
| They got nothing left to die for
|
| And they got nothing left to run from
|
| Heading past the ring road
|
| To the place where you came from you see
|
| It’s not your destiny
|
| Still you’re heading past the ring road
|
| Looking into windows
|
| People got their fires lit today
|
| Gonna find your own cave
|
| Where you’ll be looking at a picture of a bird
|
| Looking at a picture of a bird
|
| From a series of books about the sea
|
| And life above and in
|
| Looking at a picture of a bird |