no one knows why we were taught to look away.
there might be something wrong with me,
there's nothing that I can't believe.
are you listening,
2000 miles from here?
is the same sky just as clear?
out of the window,
the slow light of morning.
first hits your hands,
touches your face.
though it's uncomfortable,
though it is awkward,
days leave the nights,
eyes in the lights.
the only time you're listening,
when we run from all the things we could say.
i don't what you could be hearing,
the sounds occurred so far, far away.
i don't know why we were taught to look away,
there might be something wrong with me,
there's nothing that i won't believe.
are you listening,
2000 miles from here?
are the crickets just as clear?