Some plans were made and rice was thrown.
A house was built; a baby born.
How time can move both fast
and slow amazes me.
And so I raise my glass to symmetry
...to the second hand and its accuracy...
to the actual size of everything
the desert is the sand.
You can't hold it in your hand.
It won't bow to your demands.
There's no difference you can make.
There's no difference you can make...
And if it seems like an accident
a collage of senselessness
you weren't looking hard enough.
I wasn't looking hard enough at it
An argument for consciousness,
the instinct of the blind insect w
ho makes love to the flowerbed and dies in the first freeze. Oh, I want to learn such simple things...
the politics
no, history so what i want and
what i need can finally be the same.
I just got myself to blame...
leave everything up to fate
when there's choices I can make...
when there's choices I can make.
Now my heart needs a polygraph...always eager to pack my bags when I really wanna stay...when I really wanna stay...when I wanna stay.
The arc of time - the stench of sex...
The innocence you can't protect - each quarter note,
each marble step...
Walk up and down that lonely treble clef.
Each one and the next one to arrive.
The argument for consciousness,
the instinct of the blind insect
who never thinks not to accept it's faith...that's faith...
There's happiness in death.
You give to the next one.
You give to the next on down the line.
The levity of longing that instills each dream
inside my head...my morning water
down forget on silver stars, i wish and wish
and wish from one to the next one...
from one to the next right down the line.
You give to the next one.
You give to the next on down the line.