Wilco

There's a random painted highway
And a muzzle of bees
My sleeves have come unstitched
From climbing your tree
And dogs laugh, some say they're barking
I don't think they're mean
Some people get so frightened
Of the fences in between
And the sun gets passed from tree to tree
Silently, and back to me
With the breeze blown through
Pushed up against the sea
Finally back to me