Sculpted clay, paper scraps, bits of wood, old belt scraps
|
Everyone is looking for their friend
|
Hearts, balloons and broken wings, a puppet dangles by his strings
|
And dreams of who is on the other end
|
And we are working upon this canvas
|
And it is perfect, and it is madness
|
We are only just beginning, we’re only just beginning
|
To unearth this ancient sadness
|
See them scurry and toil, watch them sift through the soil
|
Something very large is buried in this ground
|
Yes, they’ve torn the surface all apart, but never even glimpsed the heart
|
They’re going to have to go much deeper down
|
And we are working upon this canvas
|
And it is perfect, and it is madness
|
But we are only just beginning, only just beginning
|
To unearth this ancient sadness
|
They’ve packed up the tents and stages, put the lions back in cages
|
Yes, the carnival is over for the year
|
And it’s sad to watch the party end, but I’m still looking for my friend
|
And oh, somehow she’s never been so near
|
And we are working upon this canvas
|
And it is perfect, perfect madness
|
But we are only just beginning, only just beginning
|
To unearth this ancient sadness
|
We are only just beginning, we’re only just beginning
|
We are only just beginning, we’re only just beginning
|
We are only just beginning, we are only just beginning
|
We’re only just beginning, only just beginning
|
Only just, only just, we’re only just beginning
|
Only just beginning, we’re only just beginning
|
We are only just beginning
|
We’ve only just begun, and hearts will fly
|
Only just beginning, only just beginning, only just beginning
|
And hearts begin to fly
|
Only just beginning, only just beginning, only just beginning
|
And hearts begin to fly |