angels we have heard on high/screaming at the top of their lungs/stop! please stop!      we pay them little attention and the toy drummer keeps the beat boom, boom, boom, boom

we stumble and fall, stumble and fall/the arms are tired, the knees bloody/when there are no more tears we sit/the change in altitude causes our ears to pop/ we hear strange sounds that soon become familiar

after a time, awkwardly we attempt to stand/ like a foal we wobble and teeter/ out of necessity we lean on each other/ discovering how easy it is to maintain our balance

hands clasp/we begin to walk to a table in the distance/we enjoy tea fashioned from old bones laid to rest

angels we have heard on high

smile and shake their heads