There used to be a rusty swing beside this house
It used to creak on windy days like yesterday
When violently the raindrops blew against my window pane, but
they made no sound, the triple glazing kept it out
Yet in my mind I heard that old swing, thinking 'bout
how can we know the sound of wind if nothing moves around us?
In this hard, shiny world
Can our voices still be heard
or like the wind, have we become
a bit more silent in our ways?
In this clean, modern world
is it harder to discern
What we're trying to communicate?
Just like the wind, could it be that we need a swing?
Just like the wind, what we need is a moving thing