There's a man holding a megaphone

he must have been the voice of God

The bystanders claimed they saw angels

flying up and down the block

They must have been attached to wires

I seen one laying in the lawn

with a broken arm

so I called 911

Well that's one less founded opinion

One more cause for a dispute

So the street filled like a basin

up with cameras and their crews

and they washed away the rumors

leaving just the concrete truth

It was a spectacle

No, I mean a miracle

And so I fell like that girl from a balance beam

A gymnasium of eyes

all were holding on to me

I lifted one foot to cross the other

and I felt myself slipping

It was a small mistake

Sometime's that's all it takes

Now I'm staring at my wrist, hoping that the time is right

When the planets will align

There will be no planets to align

Just the carcass of the sun and those little painted marbles spinning

senseless through an endless black sky

(and so it never started and it will never stop just like I am and you are)

It was in a foreign hotel's bathtub I baptized myself and changed

And one by one I drowned all of the people I had been.

And I emerged to find the parallels were fewer

I was cleansed

I looked in the mirror and

someone new was there

but I was as helpless as a chess piece when I was lifted up by

someone's hand

And delivered from the corner my enemies had got me in

But in all of my salvation I still felt imprisoned'Inside that holding cell

That is myself

So I wait for the day when I hear the key

as it turns in the lock and the guard will say to me:

"Oh my patient prisoner you have waited for this day and finally....

You are free! You are free! You are free!"

Now I'm staring at the sun

waiting for it to explode

Because a day is gonna come, don't know when

but it will come

And we'll finally know the way

out of here.

And I will throw away this wrinkled map and my chart of stars and compass, cracked

And I'll climb that tree all wet with sap, to avoid the hungry beasts below

I'll cut out my lover's tongue and sing

of a graveyard gray and a garden green

and we won't have to worry no more

No, we won't have to wonder again about how this song or story ends,

about how this song and story will end