And all could be lost, lost Lost in the middle of the Tangled branches Trapped by the river sages And her voice is caught, caught Singing the riddles To the tortured dancers Haunting the hollow If I think real hard and get real small I can turn to nothing, nothing, nothing Nothing at all And she was a sign (sign), sign (sign) Sign like a siren With her head on fire Screaming through wired faces And she moved like glass (glass), glass (glass) Shattering spaces like the Heartless highway Claiming the numbered If I think real hard and get real small I can turn to nothing, nothing, nothing Nothing at all If I think real hard and get real small I can turn to nothing, nothing, nothing Nothing at all Nothing at all Her voice is what follows Her voice is what follows Her voice is what follows Me Nothing at all Nothing at all Nothing at all Nothing at all