Winds

There's none to call the wind a liar
Save those whose limbs can flow as fast
Can creep up on unwatchful truth
And pluck her sleeves, distract her eyes
And leave in place the fitting image
Burnished bright with the rub of easy belief

The deafest ears hear falsehood's bell
A-tolling in the Belfry
The loudest tongue is his whose ear
Is untuned to what's likely
And thus the knowing spark is fanned into
The mindless flame
Denouncing all across its path
It blots all trace of blame

Only the blind man touches a hand
And feels a heart afire
Only the blind man sees so well
He can call the wind a liar, liar, liar, liar
Behold the boomerang returns riding
Before the wind
History written afresh as
The beginning becomes the end, end, end, end

Only the blind man touches a hand
And feels the heart afire
Only the blind man sees so well
He can call the wind a liar, liar, liar, liar
Behold the boomerang returns riding
Before the wind
History written afresh as
The beginning becomes the
Beginning becomes the end