The grass at the park is all lit up
I told you before that when it rains here, it’s not like normal wet
Our water sweats its way from the shoulders of trees
to the shoes of anybody on the sidewalk
All the leaves twinkle like foliage turned astronomical
I think that snow guy from the claymation movie may have come in here yesterday
to clobber me awake
The Island of Misfit Toys?
Yes, I go there
Oh, that’s how he found me
For now let me say
Without hope or agenda
I thought you’d be back in the writing room
There’s a global mandate for isolation
It’s insisted I dust off my guitar
Sequestered as it was, against a suitcase and a wooden wall in the shed out back
We’re together now, instrument and me
Harmonizing
Here we are along with the entire world
Asked by global governments to stay home
Look at us, in our living rooms, at our kitchen counters
You aren’t sick, are you?
Aren’t you home in pajamas?
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