Any sigh is a womb
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Releasing to the room of senses
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Results of plans are ours
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Our actions girt in what will be
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One time seems a bunch
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But we don't see in front of us
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When you do anything
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Everything's coming to you
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When you see a changeling
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He's nothing but his appearances' sum
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Touch knows what's hearing
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Sight knows who's speaking
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They're walls and doors
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And naught upholds it all
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What never ends lost it all
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It echoes and re-throws
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The bornless win it all
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They echo tomorrow's sounds
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And all is turned around
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Walls And Doors
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| John Frusciante |
