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Three birds on a wire spell a word
in a language no one wrote
the static says a thing I heard
inside my own throat
Apophenia, sing to me
the meaning in the noise
the face inside the cup of tea
the prophet's broken voice
The numbers on the clock align
the way they always do
but I decide it is a sign
and make the message true
There's no conductor in the cloud
no author in the rain
but oh, the chord the chaos plays
is gorgeous, and insane
Apophenia, sing to me
the meaning in the noise
the face inside the cup of tea
the prophet's broken voice
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