I walked down the road to the mouth of the river
and every leaf that fell grazed the corner of my eye
of my eye
Socrates, oh Socrates, tell me anything that I'll believe
what's up above, or underneath?
if you don't know, then what hope is there for me?
that black moon in the sky
it is dark and on the rise
and I guess it goes to show
that the fingers in the sky
will lift us up
they'll lift us up