If all the world were blind
and out of all their minds,
who'd be steerin' us
through all our
darkened hell?
Those who see - perhaps
the you's
and all the me's -
at least the they's who hear
when not a soul can tell.
When silence seeps itself
into our bitter selves,
who's the one to speak
when not a soul can yell?
And so we see the seas -
all the you's
and all the me's -
and so we see 'em drown,
but never say a word.
We call a breeze a breeze
and pray while
on
our
knees;
but we're the ones
abandoning
all our world.
If we have eyes to see
the blinded being blind,
then it's wise that we
say what's on our minds.
And so it's wise that we
do what's in our bones.
And so it's wise that we
give everything we own.
'Cause what's the use
in eyes, ya see...
when everything that's shown
is nothing but the lies in me
and the you's we've never known.
Somehow it's surprising me
through everything I've seen
that few have done a bit
with all
the everything they've got.
We blame the blind, ya see...
through everything we dream
when we're the ones
preserving the
hell of all our naught.