Conor Oberst
The Movement of a Hand
You follow the footsteps
Echoes leading down a hall to a room
There is music playing
Tiny bells with moving parts
Here the shadows make things ugly
An effect quite undesirable
The bold and yellow daylight
Grows like ivy across the wall
And it bounces off of the painted porcelain
Tiny dancing doll
Her body spins, as she pirouettes again
The world suddenly seems small


On an off white, subtle morning
You stretch your legs in the front seat
And the road has made a vacuum
Where our voices used to be
And you lay your head onto my shoulder
Pour like water over me
So if I just exist for the next
Ten minutes of this drive that would be fine
And all these trees that line this curb
Would be rejoicing and alive
Soon all the joy that pours from everything
Makes fountains of your eyes
Because you finally understand
The movement of a hand waving good-bye