You started to spiral out The ground's just a circle in a decaying orbit You tried just to idle awhile, thought if you sat still You'll blend with the forest, well, you don't Noted another loss, well, don't feel bad, I mean, if you can help it You learn how to document, like bad weather patterns And I guess you can call it "Progress of a kind" Not everybody takes this long I can't unsee it, but man, can you believe that we're here There's always a try again Well, don't be upset when repeating a formative year Doing the same thing for years Repeating the formative years I try to settle down I fake my death, had no one believe it I fight with the neighbor's kid I ran over his bike, well, don't park it behind my van I became a frail black bird, my chest started burning I could die if you squeeze me too long I almost got away with it Starting to deal with the problem, so I guess you can call it "Progress of a kind" Not everybody takes this long I can't unsee it, but man, can you believe that we're here There's always a try again Well, don't be upset when repeating a formative year Doing the same thing for years Repeating the formative years Watch you in the morning come to life again Watch you in the evening fall apart the same Anemic numbers ruling over you and me It's the reason you refer to them as holding value They don't, they don't... It's unkind how often you're required to replay Your light, snuffed out, on fire, doused again Somehow you reignite and I'm impressed Not everybody takes this long I can't unsee it, but man, can you believe that we're here There's always a try again Well, don't be upset when repeating a formative year Not everybody takes this long I can't unsee it, but man, can you believe that we're here There's always a try again Well, don't be upset when repeating a formative year Watch you in the morning come to life Watch you in the evening fall apart again Anemic numbers ruling over you It's the reason you refer to them as holding value

An old Paiute woman Who survived the seizer's devastation Of Yellow Thunder Sees a prairie With tall verdant grass Flowing like in ancient days She lies in the grass Clutching handfuls of the green stuff With a hungry passion She has felt since childhood A Creek boy Missing his scalp Closes his eyes And dreams of his entire nation Welcoming him home Calling his name In sweet, familiar tones "Chijajin. Chijajin. Come home." A Cheyenne warrior Sees in his vision A black river Flowing over the verdant earth As it rolls towards him He sees it is the buffalo Risen again Growing like wild flowers Over the land Each sees part Of the ancient And future paradise Now awaiting them The Chief, Wavoka Having called Now listens for the response That will awake his slumbering people And redeem