i am looking for the holes   the holes in your jeans   because i want to know   are they worn out in the seat   or are they worn out in the knees      there are so many ways to wear   what we've got before it's gone   to make use of what is there   i don't wear anything i can't wipe my hands on      do your politics fit between the headlines   are they written in newsprint, are they distant   mine are crossing an empty parking lot   they are a woman walking home   at night   alone   they are six string that sing   and wood that hums against my hipbone      we can't afford to do anyone harm   because we owe them our lives   each breath is recycled from someone else's lungs   are enemies are the very air in disguise      you can talk a great philosophy   but if you can't be kind to people   every day   it doesn't mean that much to me   it's the little things you do   the little things you say   it's the love you give along the way      when we patch things up   they say a job well done   but when we ask why   where did the rips come from   they say we are subversive   and extreme, of course   we are just trying to track a problem to its source      because we know we can't sit back   and let people come to harm   we owe them our lives   each breath is recycled from someone else's lungs   our enemies are the very air   our enemies are the air      we are looking for the holes   the holes in your jeans   because we want to know   are they worn out in the seat   or are they worn out in the knees