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Forests

de Tom Rosenthal

Sitting in the back seat
Of your mother's car
There were forests
On the way there
It rained all the way there

Sent some complex signals
To the others on the road
I was sending
All the mind beams
No one ever found me

Is there a word for the things
We heard in the day?
Is there a sound for the things
We found on our way?

Calling out the names of
All the animals
There were mountains
On the way there
You read all the way there

Numbers getting smaller
And the spirits getting low
I was sending
All the mind beams
No one ever found me

Is there a word for the things
We heard in the day?
Is there a sound for the things
We found on our way?

Is there a word for the things
We heard in the day?
Is there a sound for the things
We found on our way?

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