Up the hill past 694, at the stone wall make a left,
and I will see you soon my friend if these old directions still direct.
Is the problem that we can't see or is it that the problem is beautiful to me?
The birds of Virginia are flying within you
and like background singers they all come in threes.
Won't soul music change
now that our souls have turned strange.
Once a day, twice a day...
And when on and off collide
we'll set our souls aside and walk away.
We've been raised on replicas of fake and winding roads
and day after day up on this beautiful stage
we've been playing tambourine for minimum wage
but we are real, I know we are real.
Repair is the dream of the broken thing.
Like a message broadcast on an overpass
all my favorite singers couldn't sing.
My ski vest has buttons like convenience store mirrors
and they help me see, that everything in this room right now is a part of me.
Won't soul music change
now that our souls have tured strange.
Once a day, twice a day...
And when on and off collide
we'll set our souls aside and walk away.
Realizing is how it feels inside when it happens to you.
So I took a shot of sugar like snow dumped into the blood
and children wander off into the ultra-economic
but we are real I know we are real.
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