All the birds that you see, all figments of your dreams,
the tin heads talk to you in languages of their own.
You nod like you know and smile at all,
but only you know you care nothing at all.

The sky overhead, all in colors of your soul,
the angels hover by you, making merry as you go.
The wind blows the grass in a dance as you go on a stroll,
only you know you don't truly care at all.