Treetops

We all want understanding
To break the rocks
Not all our vision
Centred outside

We mistake our riches
Among the tops of trees
We come down intending
To conquer the seasons

We all want understanding
Our greatest curse
A thought to accompany
The rip, the crack, the stab

Where is your comfort?
Where did you come from?

Innovator he is basking in the thick glow of the risen fog, and as it covers up
Hidden data and the tracks in dirt, the eyes in the walls and the ears in the doors
Are gonna getcha
They're gonna getcha
They're gonna getcha