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The silent type, though full of thunder.
Not naive, but so much younger.
Her roots will weave and wade in wonder.
What are you really after?

Close a book and think out loud.
Give a look, don’t make a sound
As trees and brooks drown with the clouds.
What are you really after?

You just go until you fly.
If we close our eyes
And there’s no one else around us,
Then nobody knows what happens around us.
I found it and the world opened up.
You just go until you fly.

One day you wake up to more.
Pieces break up and you’re more.
You realize these streams have no shore
And you chase what you’re really after.

What are you really after?

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