|
There's a blind man who hears angels |
|
He hears them whispering inside potatoes |
|
And from the curling leaves of blooming plants |
|
And in the winding tracks of crawling ants |
|
He stands outside under the sky |
|
Listening to starlight drifting by |
|
Because gravity is not the only |
|
Force at work in this world |
|
Just like gypsy moths and flying bugs |
|
Circle around a shining bulb |
|
The blind man dreams of drifting away |
|
Into the darkness of outer space |
|
And when he walks the city streets |
|
He sprinkles the sidewalks with apple seeds |
|
Because gravity is not the only |
|
Force at work in this world |