Sometimes as an artist you get in a space where the song seems to be writing itself and you're just along for the ride. Sometimes an idea or inspiration brings me to the page and sometimes, like with this song, I learn something straight from the page and it inspires me. I spent a while after this song rambling to myself about perceived boundaries and our cultural faith in the ultimately toxic modern drama of North America. A continent of blind people.
As days stretch on break of dawn is understated
As night kicks in the evening's din is wholly faded
The sea and sky are wondering why their child is jaded
And in your eyes the caption why is contemplative
This capture... Is mountains high and deserts wide
This rapture... Is city small and traffic crawl,
where conviction's small but judgment's tall
It's sitting in my living room, it's living in this living proof
This once charade it's no parade, it's not important
It's lying there beneath the air it's struck a chord and...
As dust will fall the people crawl and shout their 'has beens'
It never will become the real at least not for them