There's a blind man who hears angels   He hears them whispering in sacked potatoes   And from the curly leaves of blooming pants   And in the winding tracks of crawling ants      He stands outside, under the sky   Listening to starlight drifting by   Because gravity is not the only force at work   In this world      Just like gypsy moths and firebugs   Circle around a shining bulb   The blind man dreams of drifting away   Into the darkness of outer space      And when he walks the city streets   He sprinkles the sidewalks with appleseeds   Because gravity is not the only force at work   In this world