I was the mower caught in the eye's cobweb
I was the man's muscular arm tense with every stroke of the scythe
I was the tension of the sun pulsating in the leaf's small veins
I was the shadow of the treetop on the child's face
I was the trembling hand pushing the piano's random keys
I was the indistinct signal of the ambulance resonating in the air
I was the prayer of the engine and the curse of the road
I was the beast and the prey
I was just a hostage of time