Beauty (Live)

Crystal leaves glisten on chandelier trees.
Wet from meteor showers, they're sparkling and green.
In this candlelit morning, they're winking at me.
Palatial morning majesty.

I stroll through the silver sand of crisp morning dew.
A wave of warm sunlight takes the moonlight from my shoes.
It washes my footprints away like little dunes.
Exquisite dawn reality.

I take a knife — I cut the sky open to see the puppeteer.
I cut the sky, knowing nobody is there.
I cut the sky to prove to you that
the knowing doesn't make the beauty disappear.

Stained glass flickers in cathedral canopies.
The priest in his plumage sings ancient melodies.
You smile at the story of Noah's menagerie.
Nature's magic pageantry.

You take a knife — you cut the sky open to see the puppeteer.
You cut the sky, hoping somebody is there.
You cut the sky to prove to me that
the hoping doesn't make the beauty disappear.

We take a knife — we cut the sky open to see the puppeteer.
We cut the sky, probing if anybody is there.
We cut the sky to prove for once and for all that
the probing doesn't making the beauty disappear.
No, nothing makes the beauty disappear.