Gravity

There's a blind man who hears angels
He hears them whispering in sacked potatoes
And from the curly leaves of blooming pants
And in the winding tracks of crawling ants

He stands outside, under the sky
Listening to starlight drifting by
Because gravity is not the only force at work
In this world

Just like gypsy moths and firebugs
Circle around a shining bulb
The blind man dreams of drifting away
Into the darkness of outer space

And when he walks the city streets
He sprinkles the sidewalks with apple seeds
Because gravity is not the only force at work
In this world