On my way to the east,
saw many signs,
I remembered things from before my time,
yeah, before my time.
On my way to the west,
surveyor lines,
cross methods of love I could not define,
yeah, so where would I find you?
Don't understand
why you point your finger at the moon.
Oh, there's no j**eled sky to fly to,
no mythologies to guide you,
but if you want me to
I'll come out
to watch you point your finger at the moon.
On the trail of your ghost,
uncertainty,
the world isn't small like it's supposed to be,
yeah, supposed to be.
Still lost in your words,
obscurity,
the world isn't mine like it's supposed to be.
Yeah, so maybe that's why
we were stuck on what could be,
pointing figures at the moon.
Oh, there's no j**eled sky to fly to,
no mythologies to guide you,
but if you want me to
I'll come out
to watch you point your finger at the moon.