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You are everywhere, within and without |
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Where it don't matter what we used to do now |
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Where I feed my people when I get behind the plow |
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When I write the tiger hanging on by his eyebrows |
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Somehow where the gang in me |
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Is being all that it can be |
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Somehow part hope is a plan |
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And part vigilante streak |
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When I reel my Irish in, when I sleep on the train |
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In straight lines, through shadows, you're there |
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Where the future lies under no moon at night |
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At the ballroom hanging you're there |
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You are there when I stop writing things down |
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And when I forget about who I am now |
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Forget about who's kissing her, who's behind my plow |
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Now it's time to drown all of that poetry out |
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Somehow where democracy |
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Is how we all learn to sleep |
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With ourselves drawing to ourselves |
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Everything we can carry |
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When I reel my Irish in, when I sleep in the rain |
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In straight lines through shadows you're there |
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Where the future lies under no moon at night |
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At the ballroom hanging you're there |
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There's no escaping this dream |
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We're dancing with no distractions |
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When I reel my Irish in, when I sleep on the plane |
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In straight lines through shadows you're there |
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Where the future lies under no moon at night |
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At a ballroom hanging you're there, you're everywhere |
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You're there, you're everywhere |
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You're there, you're everywhere |
