Mine is the song of the lonesome stranger,
tied to the road like branches to the
trees in the midst of a silent forest,
trees that have known the emptiness of time.
All is lost in time: only now—there is only now.
Still as the mist on a windless morning,
fearless and swift, like thunder through the
leaves of my thoughts, they belong to no one—
whose is the voice that lives inside my mind?
All inside my mind: only sound—it's the only sound.
Silent as a sage or frothing like a prophet,
bitten by the flames that licked against my
heels, as I fled where no man follows,
deep in the woods, beneath the broken sky.
Slowly ‘round—spinning slowly ‘round.
What did you see, what did you see,
what did you see in the forest?
what did you see in the forest?