No sudden changes
No sudden moves
Nothing stays in place as
The tide pulls the Moon
Outside is turning
I am standing still
Like a dog whose chin is resting
Upon your windowsill

I am the dust in the breeze
I am the tugging at your sleeve

So, what's the story?
And where is the scene?
I am figurative speaking
To tell you what I mean

And where is the dreaming?
Where's that beating heart?
You said the touch was painful
And called it a work of art

I am the dust in the breeze
I am the tugging at your sleeve
I am the begging to be seen
I am begging to believe

I am the dust in the breeze
I am the tugging at your sleeve
I am the begging to be seen
I am begging to believe