Telephone Booth

Rose up from a deep sleep
Was it ten minutes or a thousand weeks?
Was it always right there in front of me?
Refracted in your eyes while time had crystallized

Pass through the waterfalls in disbelief
Cracked hourglass sands raise a beach
Was it always right there in front of me?
Hidden in plain sight, a world on the other side

Lost cities where the dead dance
There's sunlight through the storm
Where love is an avalanche
To be buried is to be reborn

The bridge vanishes underneath your feet
As you rush across its fading planks
An empty telephone booth rings from across the street
Is the ghost who's on the line or who's answering?

Lost cities where the dead dance
There's sunlight through the storm
Where love is an avalanche
To be buried is to be reborn

To be buried is to be reborn

At the fiery edge along the river of dreams
Is the ghost who's on the trail or who's trailing?
Was it always right there in front of me?
Was it always right there?

Was it always?
Was it always?
Was it always?
Was it all?