| Back to the world,
|
| The acrobat’s spinning around
|
| With his head in the bay,
|
| Stepping in close to that door,
|
| Into the shore.
|
| Shivers in pain,
|
| His mind slipping back in to
|
| Behind the view,
|
| A place he made up through that door,
|
| Into the door.
|
| Back filling gold and colors that
|
| Poured from his mouth dripping shame,
|
| Found as he flowed through that door,
|
| Into the door.
|
| Comforts in time
|
| That pull and push against the
|
| Moon climbing games
|
| That reach us to get through that door,
|
| Into the door.
|
| Back to the world,
|
| The acrobat’s spinning around
|
| With his head in the bay,
|
| All the way back to that door,
|
| It’s in the door.
|
| It’s in the door.
|
| Back to the world,
|
| The acrobat’s spinning around
|
| With his head in the bay,
|
| All the way back to that door,
|
| It’s in the door.
|
| It’s in the door.
|
| It’s in the door.
|
| Back to the world,
|
| The acrobat’s spinning around
|
| With his head in the bay,
|
| All the way back to that door. |