I am the dust on a sandy beach
The tear that drips in a rolling wave
The gentle voice by a nuclear bomb
And the kiss in a storm that shakes while you sleep.
I am the Polaroid that fades
The flower that wilts and the ear that bends
I am the tree you lean against
I am the floor of the Sistine Chapel.
I am the sky beyond the fireworks
The thirteenth brick in the seventeenth wall
The match that’s damp, a car with no petrol
I am the leaf that knows it will fall.