Devendra Banhart

We all know
That the wind blows
And the moon glows
And our lungs grow
We belong to the floating hand
That's made by some animals
And we all dance so
We can let go
And remove clothes
And trade loans
Like the type of tongue that roots from your breast
And it shakes your pretty little clavacle
A good friend
Is walking
To a homeland
And inside land
And to him I said
You can leave your eyes at the horizon's dead door
'Cause you won't need them anywhere
The children
Spend the dawning
And the morning
Disappearing
They reappeared as a seed of love
You know, the hard parts are vegetables
We all know