Heavy beat. No eyes are on the sparrow, eyes are on the sparrow. He is singing anyway. The lark keeps whistling his number, silly little number. Although he's being chased. And no eyes are on the
Baptized in the shallow end. Of a Holiday Inn. Limbs dangled over my Pa. Like an inverse Pieta Mother Nature cried. "You are Leviathan, my child. You are Leviathan inside" And my lungs runneth ov