There was a hush inside the air
When you were lying on the stairs
Feeling the world had scattered there
Like little feathers on the air
And as the people filed away
The men in suits of black and gray
Each with his hands inside his coat
Each with that hush inside his throat
And this concrete cold
And this cruise control
And the drops of blood in the shaving bowl
Are the lovely things
Bright and hovering
That can pull you up
With a thousand wings
Let me through
They're thinking, "How did we arrive?
Was it by fortune or design?
Or was there something else in mind?
Let there be something else in mind"