In Words

If we were all born with a pylon between our eyes
Would we notice the grass
Through metal bars and siren cries?
I’m running on highways and dust
I’ve never been home but I know I must
If I am a mouth that bit the hand that gave me life
Then I’ll kiss a chord
Suck from melody, my fertile wife
I’m having some trouble thinking straight
To put it in words
I hate to put it in words
To long for the lark, a fickle wish, a fleeting wing
But she won’t be caught
Tethered down, and forced to sing
I’m having some trouble seeing clear
I’ll never get home I fear
And I must be left, for a little while, to walk my road
The ways back are shut now
And I’ll be left to tread alone
I want to go home