I am looking for the holes
The holes in your jeans
because I want to know are they worn out in the seat
or are they worn out in the knees?
There are many ways to wear what we have before it's gone
To make use of what's there
I don't wear anything I can't wipe my hands on
Do your politics fit between the headlines?
Are they written in newsprint?
Are they distant?
Mine are crossing an empty parking lot
They are a woman walking home at night, alone
They are six strings that sing
and wood that hums against my hip bone
We can't afford to do anyone harm
because we owe them our own lives
Each breath is recycled from someone else's lungs
Our enemies are the very air in disguise
You can talk a great philosophy,
but if you can't be kind to people every day
then it doesn't mean that much to me
It's the little things you do,
it's the little things you say,
it's the love that you give along the way
When we patch things up, they say a job well done,
but when we ask the question why,
where did the rips come from?
They say we are subversive and extreme
Of course we are just trying to track a problem to its source
We are looking for the holes
Because we know we can't sit back and let people come to harm
We owe them our lives
Each breath is recycled from someone else's lungs
Our enemies are the very air
Our enemies are the air.
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