The Center Of The World
At the center of the worldThere's a statue of a girl,She is standing near a wellWith a bucket bare and dry.I went and looked her in the eyesAnd she turned me into sand,This clumsy form that I despiseIt scattered easy in her hand.And came to rest upon a beachWith a million others there,We sat and waited for the seaTo stretch out so that we could disappearInto the endlessness of blue,Into the horror of the truth,See, we are far less than we knew.Yeah, we are far less than we knew.
But we knew what we could taste.Girls found honey to drench our hands.Men cut marble to mark our graves,Saying, "we'll need something to remind usOf all the sweetness that has passed through us."(Fresh sangria and lemon tea.)The priests dressed children for choir(White-robed small voices praise Him.)But found no joy in what was sung,The funeral had begun.
In the middle of the day,When you drive home to your placeFrom that job that makes you sleepBack to the thoughts that keep you awake,Long after night has come to claimAny light that still remainsIn the corner of the frameThat you put around her face.
Two pills just weren't enough,The alarm clock's going offBut you're not waking up,This isn't happening, happening, happening, happening, happening.It is.