| [00:25.20] |
Was it a dream |
| [00:27.18] |
Where I wandered off the trail |
| [00:30.30] |
Aimlessly drawn |
| [00:31.38] |
And came to a clearing |
| [00:32.91] |
On the hill of town |
| [00:37.68] |
Still hearing calls |
| [00:44.82] |
And a circle of stone |
| [00:47.58] |
Surrounded a pool of black water and sky |
| [00:51.72] |
Where I reached in and pulled out a song |
| [00:57.54] |
Ceremoniously young |
| [01:04.17] |
I think I dreamt it |
| [01:06.84] |
Standing on the street in the wind looking south |
| [01:10.98] |
Hunting for singing |
| [01:14.13] |
Indulging imagining words in the wind |
| [01:16.98] |
But nothing means nothing |
| [01:20.46] |
Everything is fleeting |
| [01:24.45] |
Don't get used to it |
| [01:29.70] |
I say, look upon the ruins |
| [01:56.16] |
Two distant branches on the hill |
| [01:59.34] |
There's no song, no sacredness now |
| [02:02.94] |
What I'd called the spirit world blows into dust |
| [02:07.98] |
Like me, and the song |
| [02:15.24] |
Born of alienation |
| [02:22.38] |
Ancient questions |
| [02:26.40] |
Answered alive in me again |
| [02:31.59] |
Indulging imagining words in the wind |
| [02:34.86] |
But nothing means nothing |
| [02:38.31] |
Everything is fleeting |
| [02:41.55] |
Don't get used to it |
| [02:43.59] |
I say, look upon the ruins |
| [03:14.07] |
Voice in the branches |
| [03:17.25] |
Pulling me still. |