There was a hush inside the air When you were lying on the stairs Feeling the world had scattered there Like little feathers on the air
And as the people filed away The men in suits of black and gray Each with his hands inside his coat Each with that hush inside his throat
And this concrete cold And this cruise control And the drops of blood in the shaving bowl Are the lovely things Bright and hovering That can pull you up With a thousand wings Let me through
They're thinking, "How did we arrive? Was it by fortune or design? Or was there something else in mind? Let there be something else in mind"