Whole Wide World

The Mountain Goats

the last of the repercussions died off real slow 
and the sky was still 
and the cold sun sank down beneath the snow 
I hung by my hand from the tree outside 
and I looked at the whole wide world. 

when the voices came quietly. 
I shut them down. 
when a tricky young southerly wind 
came at me with its high whistling sound. 
I turned around to face it 
with real arrogance burning inside. 
and I drank in the whole wide world.
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