Where The Circle Ends

<br>Mountain ranges <br><br>Morning red bathed ridges Stab up at the trembling blue horizon <br><br>Grey slides lazily off rooftops, lands on the incandescant ground and dies<br><br>A flock of little men touch down on the surface of the porchlight<br><br>Bronze footsoldiers return to march the twilight across our faces<br><br>Skylights ignite and explode Scattering shards of april around the room<br><br>No one even lives here<br><br>We`re too busy crashing our cars every morning into same house<br><br>Paving the same roads unwilling to walk them<br><br>And even when we extend ourselves, its only to be included<br><br>In a moment that stands still<br><br>And so often we don`t struggle to improve conditions<br><br>We struggle for the right to say "we improve conditions"<br><br>And so often we form communities only to use them as exclusionary devices<br><br>And we forget that somewhere man is beside himself with grief<br><br>And somewhere people are calling for teachers but no one`s answering<br><br>Somwhere a man stands, walks across the room, and breaks his nose on the door<br><br>And somewhere these people are keeping records, writing a book<br><br>For now we can call it "The Book About the Basic Flaw<br><br>Or "The Book About the Letter "A"<br><br>Or "Any Title That a Book About a Man That No One Cares About Might Have"<br><br>And as we turn the pages we call out the sounds of a vanishing alphabet<br><br>Standing here waiting<br><br><br><br>[Thanks to scarton891@hotmail.com for correcting these lyrics]</i>