Sanoja: Mountain Goats, The. Whole Wide World.

The last of the repercussions

Died off real slow

The sky was still

The cold sun sank down beneath the snow

I hung by my hand

From the tree outside

I looked on

The Whole Wide World



The voices came quietly

I shut them down

Tricky young southerly wind

Came at me with it's high whistling sound

I turned around to face it

With real arrogance burning inside

And I drank in

The Whole Wide World