Words

Words are there to find a cause
When pretty things fall apart
And make you feel so smart
You look around and write a song
But nobody seems to mind
How easy being kind
Is a special kind of blind

You're running about and you sing and you shout
And you can't comprehend that you know that it's all a
Reduction
How you could keep both the youth and the time
And the spleen and the twang and the storm and the tranquil
Life, I think my words are growing conscious

If you look beneath your bed
You'll find everything we hide
And you will try to write
Those fetid books that ruin the world
But nobody seems to mind
How easy being kind
Is a special kind of blind

You wanted a song for the end of our times
Like a prayer in disguise or a beautiful lie
A reduction
You summon the words but you know something's wrong
So you even crib out the mirror and walk out the door
There alive, I think my words are growing conscious

Growing conscious
Growing conscious