In the valley of the lizards past the broken TV sets
A flower grows on top of a hill that's never trampled yet
But the tread of tearing tires
And the smoke of leather fires
And the buzz of information in the air and in the wires
The sleepy old distraction of the glowing screen alone
Under eyes of all the cameras you're inclined to stay at home
And in a sweating shaking way it covers up my sight
And surrounds all with confusion in a greasy kind of light
The reveille blows
And everybody knows
But they still tell you
Get up and start running
Where the lily-wild grows
Right under your nose
But I'll still tell you
You better start looking.
The old face down decision, deciding to get up
Or laying down defeated, befriend the chopping block
Now I will say it straightly so the message it is clear
We are like the silver birds in essence do appear
We are like the flightless birds in nature do abound
Who've given up their soaring for security of ground
But the world is very long
Security is short
The secret world is falling away, there's nothing left behind
The golden horn
The piebald one
Coming in moon
Coming in moon bullet and spoon
The burning grass
After the glass is covered in cracks
The dryest grass
Never anymore
