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Everybody's got some kind of belief about creator |
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Some say openly, "I don't know" |
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Some build elevators to take the chosen few |
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Who can afford the scenic view |
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To the top of some big tower looking out on fields of blue |
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Walking clouds on caves of emptiness |
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That fall around their minds to flirt openly with vapor |
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And the trail it leaves behind fences fly and sidewalks cry |
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Concerning our creator turning loose the butterfly |
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That ate the alligator, picking up its open-ended |
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Holographic roots, it moved out to the tower |
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To look down on me and you walking caves of empty water |
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In the boring morning rain making love to open windows |
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And the vapor trails' refrain |
