Up the hill past 694, at the stone wall make a left,   and I will see you soon my friend if these old directions still direct.   Is the problem that we can't see or is it that the problem is beautiful to me?   The birds of Virginia are flying within you   and like background singers they all come in threes.      Won't soul music change   now that our souls have turned strange.   Once a day, twice a day...   And when on and off collide   we'll set our souls aside and walk away.      We've been raised on replicas of fake and winding roads   and day after day up on this beautiful stage   we've been playing tambourine for minimum wage   but we are real, I know we are real.      Repair is the dream of the broken thing.   Like a message broadcast on an overpass   all my favorite singers couldn't sing.   My ski vest has buttons like convenience store mirrors   and they help me see, that everything in this room right now is a part of me.      Won't soul music change   now that our souls have tured strange.   Once a day, twice a day...   And when on and off collide   we'll set our souls aside and walk away.      Realizing is how it feels inside when it happens to you.   So I took a shot of sugar like snow dumped into the blood   and children wander off into the ultra-economic   but we are real I know we are real.