Well the steeple pierces high into the sky but I can do the same with my eyes
And the Trees roots find the water under ground but you'll never tap the roots of my sound because they're inside me
And they're brewing stronger like a tea
I'm aging and trying to get more for free
The forces of nature are reversing themselves on me
Mercy, mercy me
Well the shape of things is a mountain and we're still climbing up to the peak
I can use a pin to poke through an egg or I can push right through with my leg, the choice is inside me
I'm angry, or so peachy sweet, we'll see
When we get there high in the sky, low under ground
We'll evaporate and we'll always be around
Now we're sound