Verse 1
She looked away for half a breath
and I built a little storm
I made a court of evidence
and gave the fear a form
a tone became rejection
a silence became proof
and I stood inside a story
calling it the truth
Chorus
But the slice is not the world
the frame is not the sky
the thought is not the whole thing
though it tells me it knows why
the mind cuts out a window
and says, “This is what is true”
but the world is wider, deeper
than the little chosen view
Verse 2
A tightness in the morning
became my anxious day
a memory from childhood
became the only way
a headline was the planet
a mood became my name
and a passing bit of weather
turned into solid shame
Chorus
But the slice is not the world
the label is not the thing
the note is not the music
though it’s part of what we sing
the mind cuts out a window
and says, “Stand here and see”
but the whole vast room of living
will not fit inside of me
Bridge
Maybe she was tired
maybe she was sore
maybe there were ten small reasons
moving underneath the door
maybe I was frightened
maybe old maps came through
maybe what I thought was happening
was one small angle too
No need to kill the story
no need to make it wrong
just don’t build a prison
from a passing little song
let the slice be useful
let the window frame the light
but don’t mistake the candle
for the whole enormous night
Verse 3
Toast was more than toast there
rain and field and flame
hands and hunger, wheat and labour
all before the name
magpie was a word there
black and white and cry
memory, warning, grass and feather
moving through the eye
Final Chorus
And the slice is not the world
the frame is not the sky
the thought is not the whole thing
though it tells me it knows why
the mind cuts out a window
and says, “This is what is true”
but the world is wider, deeper
than the little chosen view
Outro
One slice
one name
one spark
one frame
Useful, partial
small and bright
not the whole
astonishing night
This thought
this view
this story too
A window
not the world
passing through
