No sudden changes No sudden moves Nothing stays in place as The tide pulls the Moon Outside is turning I am standing still Like a dog whose chin is resting Upon your windowsill
I am the dust in the breeze I am the tugging at your sleeve
So, what's the story? And where is the scene? I am figurative speaking To tell you what I mean
And where is the dreaming? Where's that beating heart? You said the touch was painful And called it a work of art
I am the dust in the breeze I am the tugging at your sleeve I am the begging to be seen I am begging to believe
I am the dust in the breeze I am the tugging at your sleeve I am the begging to be seen I am begging to believe
