Fear constricts, because we need to get smaller
To fit into these shoes, that walk across this stage,
To make it easy to forget everything
But the overwhelming feeling something's wrong.
What would we do if our visions were true?
Would we fly off like birds for different worms?
The minutes are so tense, the aperture so thin,
A squirrel skull pulled from an attic box
Becomes something wholly new, that has come
For our confusion, to explain the world.
