Birds in a yellow haze
gliding around the sun
in a dream held by the wilderness
and the longing one
as his thoughts carry his fantasy
cross the ocean
cross the valley
cross the desert
to the light
Saints in an ancient book
killed their birds for fun
counting upon holiness
to reveal the sun
lest the mists, evil, mysterious
come rising
come grasping
come calling
for the night
they had desperate hopes
they were desperate souls
caught in a nightmare
But his tongue swims in his song
his song flows on the water
he sheds the lies of youth
to sail the ocean of knowledge
He cries a tear as he sings to himself
in his own world
he thought he was lost now he senses
he's found
he rises with the sun as her arrows
come knocking on his window
and dressed in a smile he's prepared
he's ready to play
Though you've tried to qualify his game
though you've tried to vilify his name
though you've tried to crucify his flame
He's a master at playing all the same
he's a song
born for fun
