Gravity

There's a blind man who hears angels He hears them whispering in sacked potatoes And from the curly leaves of blooming pants And in the winding tracks of crawling ants He stands outside, under the sky Listening to starlight drifting by Because gravity is not the only force at work In this world Just like gypsy moths and firebugs Circle around a shining bulb The blind man dreams of drifting away Into the darkness of outer space And when he walks the city streets He sprinkles the sidewalks with apple seeds Because gravity is not the only force at work In this world