Father, we fled your house of grey.
|
We ran from home to seek a place where our bodies would never grow.
|
Dreamer, child, be cautious of this world!
|
She has an appetite for boys and girls and she¡¯s hungry for your soul.
|
|
Little boys with dreams of paper planes were never meant to scrape the sky!
|
Keep your feet on the ground kid, only birds were meant to fly.
|
Keep your head from the clouds kid, keep your wings,
|
Always keep them by your side.
|
|
Before you fly, you¡¯ll fall,
|
Before you walk, you¡¯ll crawl¡¦.
|
|
You¡¯ve no need to stitch your shadow to your heels,
|
No, not this time.
|
|
Son you¡¯ll walk with no whisper, no sound,
|
Only the feet of the heavy hearted are held to the ground.
|
You¡¯ve no need to draw the curtains son, throw them wide.
|
Cross the borders between the never and the night.
|
Find the twinkle in your smile, chase it on ¡®til morning,
|
Past the second star to the right.
|
|
We¡¯ll be the smoke curling on the still.
|
The airship captains; we wait for sun to brush the hills.
|
|
Son, I share your windward dreams,
|
To soar from this little town of shacked up windows and swinging doors!
|
The rafters creak and the floorboards groan
|
While the shadows dance to the tapping of my toes.
|
|
There¡¯s nothing left for us but altitude,
|
We¡¯ll be the kings of the air.
|
|
Stolen, by the wind that turns the leaves to razors.
|
Holding just a string, our twine and our paper lost to the breeze.
|
|
-----------------
|
Antarctica
|
| Hands Like Houses |
