So he dropped the webs of the spider of heaven down through the clouds,
All the way into the pool of blood at the bottom of hell
Far above in heaven a bird flys through the terrible cloud of unknowing
Trust can make a man into a wood, trust can make a man green

An everything that longs to Be
Broken and small enough to see
To be held in his hands
To be a part and yet alone

Here he is, reaching for the speed of light
Here he is, reaching for the sound of forgiveness
Now wounding 'round the waterfront she listens for a voice
A sign of Mother God, a sign of God the lad

I long to enter you with gentleness and compassion
But sorrow is always an open door
I know many days go by and I forget to look up at the stars
I forget there are stars, I forget there is the rest

Thin threads of light follow you around
Through the pale blue, down your skin
Down your skin

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC
Writer(s): RICHARD WALLIE BOSTON, RICKIE LEE JONES