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I feed from the bottom, you feed from the top |
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I live upon morsels you happen to drop |
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And coffee that somehow leaks out of your cup |
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If nothing comes down then I'm forced to swim up |
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On the way upwards, the colors come back |
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But all along the bottom is blue, grey, and black |
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The darkness is cold and perception goes wrong |
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And the night seems to go on incredibly long |
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So I ask you why if I'm swimming by |
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Don't you see anything you'd like to try? |
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Pantomime mixtures of heaven and earth |
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Jumbled events that have less than no worth |
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Time in the forest to dig under rocks |
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Or float in the ocean, asleep in a box |
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Or sink just below, all the churning and froth |
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And swim to the light source or fly like a moth |
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So toss away stuff you don't need in the end |
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But keep what's important and know who's your friend |
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So I ask you why if I'm swimming by |
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Don't you see anything that you'd like to try? |
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If I'm swimming by |
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From the bottom, from the top |
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From the bottom, from the top |
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From the bottom, from the top |
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From the bottom, from the top |
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From the bottom, from the top |
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From the bottom, from the top |
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From the bottom, from the top |
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From the bottom, from the top |
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From the bottom, from the top |
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From the bottom, from the top |
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From the bottom, from the top |
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From the bottom, from the top |
