Staring out the window for more than an hour cause I can't face what's real Sitting next to me is the music in my head and the steering wheel The birds on the powerline seem like they want to get away In their eyes I see something that the carpet in the school sees everyday Now the road is ending and it's snow from here to where I can see But I don't need a guarantee of where I'll go Or who I'll be But if you want to wait for the birds to come and the chord to sound You'll have to find another bird To do it around