and as cold eyes judge I ask myself,
"Where do we connect"?
Or maybe thunder rumbling through a quiet room
and as they talk about the weather, I reply,
"But where do we connect"?
What's the deal here, Mr. Shaman -
Now that I'm in your vision
What's the point to this grand picture show?
(Shaman):
If you can't see the answer
then you must look that much further
As you surrender, all will unfold
Now I've been through the mouths,
and stared down the frogs
Shed my skin in the morgue and died on Mars
but still I don't connect
Faced my fear in the opera,
and my strength in the storm
Learned of time from the mountain,
living from the stone
But how can I connect?
'Cause I'm still floating
Suddenly I'm on the earth,
dry and desolate savannah
and the only thing that's standing
is a dry, denuded tree
With an angry burst of instinct
I climb straight up to the top
Shaking all the withered branches
with my final outcry,
WHERE DO WE CONNECT!