Twenty White Tents

Man in a chair, outside in the air, rubbing on the leg which he broke three times falling from a tree which he could not climb
Man lays down, whispering names of towns, forgot about the one where he ran all night up to a river where he almost drowned

Caterpillar crawls on the table beside him, a shiny short cloth with a shaggy trim
Memories have never got to applause, approach him
Twenty white tents on a yellow lawn

Man on his feet, wrapped in a cotton sheet and he's almost as tall as he was before, wrapped in a blanket on a sandy shore
Man watches birds, whispering made up words like the ones long ago then he plays the song and he's singing to himself as he walked along

Caterpillar crawls on the table inside him, gonna grow wings at the break of dawn
Particles have lost lonely gifts await him
Twenty white tents on a yellow lawn