Where The Circle Ends Lyrics - Waiting - Thursday

Mountain ranges 

Morning red bathed ridges 

Stab up at the trembling blue horizon 

Grey slides lazily off rooftops 

Lands on the incandescent ground and dies 

A flock of little men touch down on the thin surface of porchlight 

Dawn's footsoldiers return to march the twilight across our faces 

Skylights ignite and explode 

Scattering shards of april around the room 

No one even lives here 

We're too busy crashin our cars every morning in the same house 

Paving the same roads 

Unwilling to walk them 

And even when we extend ourselves, its only to be included 

In a moment that stands still 

And so often we don't struggle to improve conditions 

We struggle for the right to say "We improved conditions" 

And so often we form communities 

Only to use them as exclusionary devices 

And we forget that somewhere man is beside himself with grief 

And somewhere people are calling for teachers 

And no one's answering 

Somewhere a man stands, walks across the room, and breaks his nose against the door 

And somewhere these people are keeping records 

And writing a book 

For now we can call it "The Book About the Basic Flaw 

Or "The Book About the Letter A" 

Or "Any Title That a Book About a Man That No One Cares About Might Have" 

And as we turn the pages we call out the sounds of nothing 

The sounds of a vanishing alphabet 

Standing here waiting