Can I write or can I sleep?
Will you laugh or will you weep?
What are we when we're down here?
Am I far or am I near?
What are hands? And what are feet?
Mine grown week; yours so fleet
You move and dance about the air
while my own weight I cannot bear.
Yet sing again, I sing with you,
for all the words you say are true,
and if I cannot understand
please lead me hand in hand.
Growing Weak
Tale Told 