In the realm of spirit I've experienced the inseparability of our song and art. Neither came first. They are one and the same and not so much creations of ours as they are a glimpse at Creation itself.
Your mother made the mountain that got you there
High up in the air
White bear, white bear
You reach to the sky, you're ready to die
And the stars fall into you
And light up your hair, light up your hair