So he dropped the webs of the spider of heaven down through the clouds,
All the way into the pool of blood at the bottom of hell
Far above in heaven a bird flys through the terrible cloud of unknowing
Trust can make a man into a wood, trust can make a man green
An everything that longs to Be
Broken and small enough to see
To be held in his hands
To be a part and yet alone
Here he is, reaching for...the speed of light
Here he is, reaching for...the sound of forgiveness
Now wounding 'round the waterfront she listens for a voice
A sign of Mother God, a sign of God the lad
I long to enter you with gentleness and compassion
