Why burn poor and lonely under a bowl,
under a lampshade or on the shelf beside the bed
where at night you lay turning like a door on its hinges?
(First on your left side, then on your right side,
then on y our left side again)
Why burn poor and lonely?
Tell all the stones, we're gonna make a building.

We'll be cut into shape & set into place or if you'd rather
be a window, I'll gladly be the frame reflecting and kind
words, living...
Anyway, aren't you unbearably sad?
Then why burn so poor and lonely?

We'll be like torches.
We'll be like torches together!
With whatever respect our tattered dignity demands.

Torches together, were once 'one notes',
We were lonely wheat quietly ground into grain
(What light and momentary pain!)
So why this safe distance, this curious look?
Why tear out single pages when you can throw
away the book?
Why pluck one string when you can strum the guitar?

Strum the guitar!
With no beginning, with no endn
take down a guitar and strum the guitar if you're
afraid,
And I'm afraid and everyone's afraid and
everyone knows it but we don't have to be afraid anymore.
You played the flute, but no one was dancing.
You sang a sad song and none of us cried.