Bright Eyes - From a balance beam

^CThere is a man holding a megaphone, so he ^Fmust have been the voice of God. The bystand^C7ers claimed they saw angels flying u^Fp and down the block. Fm(300230) Well, they must have been attached to wires. I saw one laying in the ^Amlawn with a br^Foken arm, so I called^F 911. So that is one l^Cess founded opinion. One more ^Fcause for a dispute. So the s^C7treet filled, like a basin, up with c^Fameras and their crews and they ^Fmwashed away the rumors leaving j^Amust the concrete truth. It was a s^Fpectacle. No, I mean a ^Fmiracle. So then I ^Cfell like that girl from a b^Falance beam. A gym^C7nasium of eyes were all ho^Flding on to me. I lifted one foo^Fmt to cross the other and I f^Amelt myself slipping. It was a s^Fmall mistake. Sometimes that is ^Fall it takes. ^Am Now I'm staring at my wr^Fist, hoping that the timing is r^Fight. When the planes w^Cill align. There will be no planets to ^Falign. Just the carcass of the^Fm sun and those little painted m^Fmarbles spinning endless through an endless black sky.

It was in a f^Coreign hotel's bathtub I bapt^Fized myself in change. And ^C7one by one I drowned all of the p^Feople I had been. I em^Fmerged to find the parallels were ^Amfewer. I was cleansed. I looked ^Fin the mirror and someone ^Fnew was there. Still, I was as h^Celpless as a chess piece when I was lifted^F up by someone's hand and de^C7livered from the corner my enemi^Fes had got me in. But in ^Fmall of my salvation I still ^Amfelt imprisoned inside that ho^Flding cell that is ^Fmyself. So I w^Cait for the day when I'll h^Fear the key as it ^C7turns in the lock and the ^Fguard will say to me, "Oh my patient prisoner you have waited for this day ^Am and finally you are f^Free! You are free! You are^F freezing." ^Am Now I'm staring at the su^Fn, waiting for it to ex^Fplode. Because a day is gonna c^Come, don't know when but it will ^Fcome and then we will finally know the^Fm way out of here.

^FmAnd I will throw away this wrinkled map and my chart of stars and compass, cracked. And I'll climb out that tree all wet with sap to avoid the hungry beasts below. I'll cut out my love's tongue and sing of a graveyard gray and a garden green and then we won't have to worry no more. No we won't ever worry again abouthow this song or story ends about how this song and story will end.