Hold up a picture of a highway
And a picture of a home
And a picture of some money
And a picture of some bones
All together, all in a row
But out of all those pictures
Youll only notice one
But its really not important
No, its no more than a fortune
It just shows what doors are open
If youre looking at the home
Well, your feet are scared
Youre looking at the road
Youre gonna feel restless for a while
Yes, for a while, for a while
If youre looking at the money
Well, you benefit from the army
Youre looking the bones
Well, you got some silly reasons in their eyes
Yes, in their eyes, in their eyes
This the song, this the song
The song of four holy photos
They never look into their own eyes
Its the second closest youll get
Theres settlement of foreigners
In a land that they cant see
Where the birds are always singing
And the water runs clean
But all these things
Told them nothing
Theres a makeshift church
And theres a hand that pulls a rope
And the rope swings the bells
As they ring into the trees
And make an echo
And it never stops
Well, so I hung up those pictures
In their foraminous place
Where their mood is a little nervous
But they felt they had a reason enough to stay
So they stayed
And no one when they looked
Could even see the bones at all
The leaders took the money
And the others took the color of the road
Yes, and the home
And no one argued
It was one of them who did
And he spoke on what he saw
And ruined his reputation
He was labeled as a misfit
Ah, you know
Thats just what saints get sometimes
This the song, this the song
The song of four holy photos
They never look into their own eyes
Its the second closest youll get