Eagle Eye Cherry

When the roots of the tree are as cold as can be

When the wind in the sea are the moth meets the bee

When the rays of the sun lick your skin with its tongue

And the grass with its green And the grass with its green

And the shine with its sheen And the shine with its sheen

And the trains with their tracks And the spines with their backs

And your sway with its slow And the wind with its blow

And your scream with its soul I don't play rock n roll

And the people with their lungs And the people with their paws

If the sky were a stone made of lips, made of bones