All language subtitles for Gravity.Was.Everywhere.Back.Then.2010.1080p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

This is gravity was
everywhere back then.

It's a true story about this
guy named Leonard Wood who,

lived outside of
Louisville, Kentucky.

And when Leonard's wife Mary
was diagnosed with cancer

he decided he could
build their house into

a sort of healing machine
that would save her life.

Mary got sick about two
years after their wedding.

And Leonard,

kept frantically building the
house for the next 20 years.

Before he fell of the roof,

ended up in a nursing home,
and he had to sell the house

to cover his bills.

And the guy who bought
the house from Leonard

knocked it down.

Almost entirely because it was
the only house on the block

that didn't look like
every other house

on the block.

But, I got to down there.

To the house before it fell,

and it was amazing.

From the outside it
looked relatively normal.

It was big, it looked
pretty well built,

there were windows everywhere.

But, the inside was randomly,
chaotically filled up with

rooms like, if you were
standing in his living room

the next room over
was his bedroom.

And his bedroom started
half way up the living room

door frame.

You would have to put your
hands on the floorboards

to hoist yourself
up into the bedroom.

He had a laundry room with 23
foot high vaulted ceilings.

Every stair was numbered.

Every window was painted
a different color.

And he really thought
this was going to work.

He really was trying to build

a healing machine for Mary.

And I don't understand
how he thought

a lot of this stuff
was going to work.

I mean, I think I do now.

But, when I was down there
I couldn't figure out

for the life of me what
a 23 foot high tower

for a laundry room
could possibly do to
save someone's life.

Until you realize, that he
was building towards God.

All his stuff was in a house
when we went down to film it.

Still sitting there like we
found the blueprints for his

house and they
were on cardboard.

We found all his
bank statements.

He worked in a hardware store.

In this hardware store.

And he was completely broke.

We found this box of tapes
of him playing crazy people

church music on the piano.

He'd announce a
song and he'd say

this one's called
Angels On High.

And then just bang on the piano
for 15 or 20 or 40 minutes.

Entire sides of tapes
and it was horrible.

Crazy people church music.

Like an Appalachian
felonious monk kind of thing.

But, horrible.

And his bank statements.

He had about 17 cents in the
bank almost all the time.

And the friend who was down
their filming with me looked

at me and said, "You know Brent
no one is ever going to care

how much money you had
in the bank in 1987".

And that was a really mighty
thing to hear somebody say.

Because I was completely
broke at the time.

And I was like yeah, that's
it, that's exactly it.

You're never going to die
from running out of money.

And you're never going to die
from running out of energy.

Until you do then it's
not your problem anymore.

Then I decided to make
this film about Leonard.

I rebuilt his house behind
my barn in Pennsylvania

full scale.

And made this film about him
and just running everything

down to zero to leave
something wonderful behind.

Which, is exactly,
what Leonard did.

Mary lived in her mom's house.

In the house where she
grew up her entire life.

It was an old, really
pretty, sort of decrepit

farm house.

And when she met Leonard
she was 27 years old.

And where are going to start
with the story right there.

Right after Mary's mom died.

And this is Mary.

Mary, I'll try to describe
real quick here why

Leonard would fall
in love with Mary.

She had about 100 bird
houses out in the woods.

Each one filled with a
different family of birds.

And when they are ready
Mary is an egg robber.

She takes a couple eggs from
each nest and sells them

at a table in the outside
section of Renningers Market

down the road

from my house there.

You need someone
who makes you laugh.

Who's willing to dance,
who even likes to dance.

You need someone around,

your wife should be last person
around who will still hug

you when the repo man
tells you it's time

to move out of your car.

And this is long before
that kind of thing though.

Laughter and sex.

But, not at the same time.

I know that's debatable.

Alright, ready.

He can't stop
thinking about her.

So, he calls her.

And invites her over
for dinner that night.

I built the house myself.

Yeah, yeah I could tell.

Conversation was awkward.

We can't allow the
carrier pigeons in,

even the one's that were on
the medals during the war.

Is green tea okay?

That's fine.

Also, we killed all the turkeys.

We were testing the sound
barrier and all the turkeys

had heart attacks because
they were so scared

and they all died.

All over the place,
all over the fields.

Everywhere, just dead turkeys,

every single place.

I don't build
houses but, I build

bird houses.

I need to build a really
bird house because

I live with my mom
and my mom just died

and now I need a place to live.

Do you want to go to
a funeral tomorrow?

Your Mom,

you lived in a birdhouse?

No.

But, you can help me build a
really big bird house, right?

Oh, yeah.

I'm into building houses.

I haven't built one for a bird.

I imagine the scale
would be smaller.

I mean, their easier,
they're easier then putting

a door on.

Did you want a door or?

What are you doing tomorrow?

Did you want to
go to the funeral?

I mean, I'm going
to the funeral.

No, is tomorrow Tuesday?

Mmhm.

Yeah, yeah I'll go.

Oh, really?

I'd love to go.

Do you have a shovel?

I'm not doing
anything tomorrow so,

I could help dig the grave.

I do that a little.

I want to plant flowers.

I don't want to dig around.

Oh, oh.

Maybe we should
move here though.

I don't know if she
likes where she's buried.

Maybe I should move her
closer to my bird houses.

I do have a shovel.

Okay, so tomorrow
going to the funeral

don't forget your shovel.

Alright I'll leave a
note by my sheet in bed.

You seem to like birds.

I built some of those myself.

Yeah, you said.

Well, I can leave.

How much space
do you have here?

I haven't measured
it since I built it.

Is this how big you
want a birdhouse?

No, I could use less space?

Yeah, most
birdhouses are smaller.

But, it's for me.

Oh, so you would want a door.

Why did your mom die?

I mean, what did she die of?

From?

Bird flu,

cancer.

Isn't that what most
people die from?

Most everybody now.

They either get in a
car crash or cancer.

We didn't die
in the car crash.

We got in a car crash.

But, maybe we have cancer?

You must go on a
lot of first dates.

This isn't a date,

this is a car crash.

Well, it was a car crash.

Did anybody die?

Yeah.

So, that date
didn't go well either.

No, that
wasn't a date either.

So it took awhile but,

they got around to dinner.

I schlep bird eggs.

Oh yeah, it's a hobby?

No, I do it for a living.

Oh,

so you sell them?

I sell them at
Renningers Market.

I thought.

Oh, to eat.

Well, some people eat them.

I hope people eat them.

I don't really know what
else they would do with them.

Paint them.

You haven't seen
the painted one's.

There a dollar each
or three for a dollar.

Wow,

I never knew anybody
who collected bird eggs

or sold bird eggs.

Crows lay eggs?

I think all birds lay eggs.

Yeah.

Are cardinal's eggs red?

No,

there white.

That's kind of disappointing.

They're pretty enough already.

There's small blue
one's, there's big one's.

There's even yellow
one's with spots.

And they
all taste the same?

No, they all
taste completely different.

Oh yeah?

Yeah.

What's the
best tasting color?

What there's not a lot
of different colors?

I could fix that for you.

Giant wooden stars are
glowing high over head.

Look at the house,

isn't all the lumber
in every house

at the job you had and
whoever created that job.

And maybe you created that job,

and isn't it amazing all
the stuff has to be built.

Piece by piece.

Years and years.

And when I think of love,

I think of Thomas Edison,

for good reasons.

I think of lights, wires
in a series, a DC line,

those giant generators
cranking your legs,

running what they can
run blocks at a time.

Edison could imagine the world
lit before it could be lit.

Everyone knew the bulbs
around Menlo Park would

be beautiful, long
before they saw them.

And when they saw them,

it turns out they couldn't
imagine how beautiful

they could be.

I want sound recordings so
I could hear your voice,

I want X ray machines to see
your works, I want a better

battery, submarine,
kinetoscopic memories.

Human days run by electricity.

Your a little dynamo
churning and spewing within

our own magnetic fields.

So mostly, I think of the
bulbs, wired and serious,

because like love all the
lights get dimmer as you go.

And we went to the
field behind your house

and the dandelions
floated around you

like silent film projectors.

I wish I lived in the
late 19th century.

When inventing and
stealing where easy.

I get you all

the best things.

It was a normal happy life.

The years went by
with unexcited lies

and a impassioned honesty.

I grew and shaved a beard,

replaced light bulbs
when they died,

we had a gas leak that
almost caused a fire.

We never had kids and then

you got sick.

When Mary got sick it
went downhill fast.

She got worse,

and worse.

Soon a normal,
residential lot outside

of Louisville, Kentucky

Leonard would decide he could
build there house into a,

build a house to
save his wife's life.

And he went about
to try and build

a serious healing machine.

Are you poisoning me Leonard?

You would tell me if you
are poisoning me, right?

I'd tell you.

Someone needs to
check my birdhouses.

Alright, I'll do
it right after lunch.

After lunch you should it eat.

I did already.

No you didn't.

When did you eat?

Three days ago.

Why, what day is it?

I'd say Wednesday or Thursday.

You don't even know.

What day
do you want it to be?

Sunday.

Alright,
it's Sunday.

Why do you want it to be Sunday?

You don't go to church.

But, you do.

There's to much noise.

There's doctors calling.

There's constant hammering.

The house felt unsteady.

Creaking and leaking,
the tallest parts visibly

wobbling in stronger winds.

It wasn't working.

Nothing was working.

You had embellishments and
those embellishments become

the center of the story.

And here's Leonard drawing
the blueprints on cardboard.

And this is the flood scene.

Because memories go however
you want them to be.

It will stop and we'll
just keep the windows open.

It will dry out.

Let me get back up on top there

and get that rolling again.

It's not

doing any good just by itself.

Okay.

Yeah, I keep building it.

I need it for power.

I don't know if
it's even half way.

Is it even raining
outside Leonard,

or is it only raining in?

I didn't build the roof
so high so the clouds were

under it.

It's raining outside
and coming in.

It's coming in from underneath
and it's flowing into

the sides.

Leonard is on
the roof with pockets full

of nails.

He sees those nails as his
problem making it hard enough.

He can make them sink.

He can make them disappear.

And the wind is
harder is up here.

The wind is very
much harder up here.

His nails are falling
down the roof and filling

up the gutter.

He's focusing on the
little things to change

the big picture.

The details, what can we do
with the big things anyway

if we can't get
our grasp on them.

If we can't twist them around.

If we can't get ahold of
them and twist them around.

That the end of his life
melted by looking for work

as a sailor.

If vaulters jump and
fall from a horse.

If sinking in the Mississippi.

Each nail representing
a different offense.

Grave digger originals are
cast in the shadow over hill.

It's raining cold
water, it's cold.

And the nails he put in the
gutter blocked the rain water

and caused a little flood.

Children are fishing
in the street.

Each one catching a medium
sized grey polluted walleye

or trout.

Each one reeling in a fish.

Leonard's watching them.

As a man raising flowers,
conducting rain looks,

looks in the water.

A young Melville, ed,

watching a small
fish on the street.

Cultivating occasional grief

clarity

he's building an ark

he's building a miracle.

What good is he if the
electricity fails and can not

collect the water.

If he cannot save his wife.

What good is he?

I think his words
finally got across.

This is the power
maybe God gives us.

To communicate.

There are never fish in the
stream before it floods.

But, Mary got weaker
and worn down.

I saw all these.

Leonard wants me
to say imagine but,

I see them.

Occasionally, groups of
angels flying above people.

Not always over me.

Flying with these, some
kind of, listening machines.

Begging me to march
out of this world.

She see's angels with giant
listening machines flying

around.

Systematically combing over
the earth recording prayers

to report back to God.

The listening machines have
phonograph horns coming

out of the bottom
that take sound in.

And then one horn pointing
up to God where the sound

comes out.

The lines in the cylinder
are actual prayers.

Like, why doesn't my
mom come home anymore?

Who's side are you on?

I never ask for anything
but, I really need to make

the cheerleading
squad this year.

And this makes a
lot of sense to me.

That there are angels
floating around filtering out

the nonsense so God
can concentrate.

It would make sense to
that they are limiting

what he can hear.

So, he doesn't know
its gotten to bad.

Whether the angels have
been slacking on their work

or God's in over
his head either one,

their filtering out some
key stuff these days.

Leonard's saying if
I can just somehow,

he sits Mary in the
death of the duty chair

in the water room.

When he finishes it he tries
to stick the needle into her.

She wants to do it.

I'll do it Leonard,

without the shedding of blood
there is no remission of sin.

Somewhere in the back of his
head he's becoming more and

more exhausted.

She must have done something
wrong to get sick like that.

It's the religion in him.

I like songs that
sound like old wars.

I like the mountain goats,
Walt Whitman's brain

and Leonard Cohen.

I love, love songs that
sound like old battles.

He's building more
and more of the house.

It starts getting complicated.

He's numbering the stairs.

He's on the roof
building the steeple

like laundry room.

He's building towards God.

Trying to call on him.

Asking for his help.

Asking for a miracle.

And Mary, is carrying
a massive weight.

She's struggling, she's
not looking to build

a monument or heal anything.

She's just bound
here by some kind

of otherworldly stone.

She wants to release the weight.

But, when she's looking
to Leonard for support

while she's looking to him
for to carry something.

She's seeing the man she loves
run ragged and desperate.

And trying to fix this
with his own hands.

And some things, nearly all
the best things in this world

are not made by hands.

This is when I
realized I was sick.

This is the first
time when I knew I was

going to die.

I'm going to die.

Leonard sees light.

He sees light where
there isn't any.

When we die or electricity
recharging our hearts

literally quits.

Leonard sees light where
there is no electricity.

It's not delusion.

That's why I love him.

But, when Leonard sees no
light there is no light.

Uh.

Is it daytime?

Yeah, it's afternoon.

I can get more light in
here, it is kinda dim.

I thought it might make
your headache go away.

To not have such bright light,

shining on you when
you're trying to rest.

Leonard was a completely
normal guy though.

I don't want to give the
impression that just because

this section of his life was
beautiful in any kind of way

that he was anything
other than a normal guy.

And it's sad to imagine
a normal hardworking guy,

like Leonard, begging God
for some kind of relief.

Both for his wife and himself.

But kneeling by your bed
and talking into your hands

will never be enough.

And the thing is that if
there was a God over us

looking down, maybe
laughing his ass off when

it comes to communicate.

Laughing at our attempts
to invoke miracle,

after miracle, after
miracle, after miracle.

And if there was a God, I
like to think there is not,

I think he'd
empathize with Leonard

and maybe grant his wish.

After all what Leonard
was asking him to do

was something that
happens all the time.

We marvel at it at
first every time

and then accept
it without notice.

What Leonard was asking
is much less complicated

then what granted George
in It's A Wonderful Life.

The miracle Leonard was
trying to invoke is a simple,

mundane, everyday miracle.

But, there are none.

There are no miracles.

We cannot forget our old
task like online science.

That's not how this works.

That's not how these
things end in this world.

You sent out the doves with
note attached and it does

not come back.

If there was a God, and
I think there is not,

claims of love extinguished
and fully passed

could be gone.

If there is God,
pushing us about,

touching us with brief thoughts
of the ending of all things.

Shifting mountains and clouds.

If there is a God, he
is indifferent to us.

And now when I look at
the sky shifting clouds

I think of God,
bored, shaping them.

Aimless,

wander-less,

whatever now, I don't
want to do this again.

I pray for looming and
developing silence in darkness.

But, wherever you find comfort,

where ever your
amazed, you should go.

Even though I don't
believe in God,

I still like the bible.

And when I think of Leonard,

I think about Noah.

The first sort of glaring
omission in the bible

has become when they
built Jesus his cross.

I gave up fully when
only psychos think

they can relate to him.

And that was smart.

They gave us a good guide
for who to listen to.

So far as community leaders
and politicians but,

the carpenter is
pretty much a sheep

with different shepherds.

False idols and what not.

There should have been a
hail storm with splinters.

This soft spot is six
times the size of a hammer,

a simple procedure
made nearly impossible.

There should of been something.

Some kind of lesson piling
in God's fucking unison.

There is no reprieve
for an heiress grave.

And when I look in the
face of psychos who relate

to God and he has a crazy
imagination for every

working eye.

There are crosses tilted
towards the ground.

Talk to my own
wife life a crutch.

What the fuck is this?

Always on the polite.

And Jesus Christ,
just because you,

you have blood on your hands
doesn't mean you are a thing.

I can't.

The fact that Noah,
the interesting thing
to me about Noah,

has nothing to do with
the animals or how amazing

it must feel to see tree
covered hills just below

an ocean surface.

While holding and
brushing the hall.

When I think of
Noah, I think of,

gathering all that wood.

The lumberyard, cutting
down tree after tree,

displacing boards.

Cutting it clean enough
to make a boat, an arc.

A huge boat, he had some kind
of divine hand behind him.

Even with divine
strength, that's crazy.

There's a tall bunion ship
but, the more I consider that

actually gathering and planing.

Hammering and soaking
and bending the more

I think that's the point.

You find something
and work at it.

Spend your time building it.

So, I imagine his boat

resting,

blocked on a hill,

the thing his grasping at God

or some kind of ultimate
end guiding him.

Miles and miles from sea,

an inward light pass that people

do look to him.

And it makes more
sense to me to see God

like Noah saw him.

Somewhere trying to picture
God as an England lighthouse.

And our huge Appalachian
hills over tumbling waves.

Finding the shapes.

Prison road work crews,
motor vehicle operators,

in the dark with freedom
under that lighthouse beam.

If God comes and if God
is benevolently good,

that is the rapture.

That moment, that
swimming and escaping,

is the rapture.

The truth is,

the truth of this
whole thing is,

you have to build
your own world.

Everyone does it.

All of us do it.

From the richest
Wall Street investor

and medical venture capitalist.

To the biggest nerd dropping
a McFish into a deep fryer.

All of us do it.

And with that in mind,

Mary decides to kill herself.

She gets a grip on
these things though.

The most endearing trait
in people is the feeling

they've seen to much
and gotten through.

And Mary, she's seen
enough at this point.

And she marches to death
with horns and church bells

all around her.

Mary has her last day
with Leonard planned.

She buys him a pet bird
so he has some company.

She wants to be sweet and
exit on a great note for him.

Leave him with a
wonderful last memory.

And he doesn't realize she
is going to kill herself.

Hello.

Hey Leonard.

How you feeling?

Okay.

Yeah?

Yeah.

How was work?

It was good.

Mostly just stocking.

I got you a present.

Oh, is it garish?

It's a bird.

Hmmm?

It's a bird.

Well, good.

Need to change the
light bulb in my place

and I got a dead
bulb in the tower.

You be good, get me a soda.

Call got two dumb boys up there.

Right on the arch.

I think I say
bird brain for a reason

when I do anything.

Yeah, definitely.

He's pretty though.

Yeah, he is pretty.

Maybe you can
teach him to talk.

Alright, what do you want
me to talk to him about?

I don't know.

I'll educate him on
you favorite subject

which is, bird.

That will be his
favorite subject to.

Well you do better at that.

Is that how you talk to him?

He doesn't even notice yet.

Are you going to make eggs?

Oh yeah, will lay eggs.

At least he'll
tell you something.

Maybe you can even build
him a little house.

I'm busy, one
house at a time here.

What kind of bird is it?

I don't know.

A black one.

He looks more yellow to me.

Has he laid any
eggs yet for you?

I don't know.

Sometimes I think
you buy a bird

as a present for yourself.

This one's for you.

I see.

I wonder if there's
even varnish for that.

I think that's
very lame for a bird.

I can only think of varnish
and nails and shingles.

How about Mary?

And Mary, right.

Alright, I'll name him Mary.

That's a nice Mary.

You should
teach him how to talk.

Is he a talking bird?

I think so.

Maybe you can get him to talk.

Listen.

You listen.

Don't get the bird
drunk Leonard.

I was just joking.

You know how chatty people get

when there jealous.

Make sure you cover
his cage at night cuz.

I fixed it, its not raining,

it's dry and he's
not going to get wet.

I didn't mean that.

He just doesn't like the light.

Oh, should we make it dark?

We can turn the lights off.

Does the bird like a shield?

Yeah.

Really?

Yeah, that's what
you're supposed to do.

She injects into her arm.

ten cc's of fresh Kentucky air.

It's not surprising exactly.

We didn't see it coming

and we weren't surprised.

But, death is

always hard to accept.

The reality of seeing her body.

Hold close the one's you love.

And when the fuzz showed up

because the
neighbors got nervous

when the house opened up.

Leonard asked and then pleaded

for him to go away

and leave his wife
behind with him.

And he did.

Overall, police are
agreeable people.

I feel the same way about
cops as I do about criminals.

If either one is in my house
there's something wrong.

And now Leonard's
building the house

for himself.

He won't let her
body leave the house.

He won't let there be
a burial or a funeral.

The piano stopped working
around when Mary got sick.

And stars and the moon
were all out there too

just like before.

But dark, wired to
light but, unlit.

I swear I would never ask for
anything else if I got you.

And I have never asked
for anything else.

And what I have, I
desperately try to give away.

And what I do have, I'm
still trying to give away.

And what I still have,

I'm desperately
trying to give away.

Leonard can't bear to
look at the birdhouses,

he can't look at the dishes,
the silverware, there dead.

Exactly what time did she die?

And what if I left before?

I had a feeling.

I'll never sleep right again.

Exactly what time did she die?

And she knew that there would
be this kind of reaction

when I knocked on the
door to talk to her.

How weird is it that your dead?

He sits in the room
and talks to Mary.

How sad is it that your dead?

Aren't you fucking
sad about that?

And I'm wondering if dying
just hurt the outside of you,

like some kind of
clothes you wear.

Probably not.

But, here's where you leave me.

I was changing the
windshield wiper on your car

when it hit me you were dead.

I was fumbling,
greasy and exhausted

and I couldn't get
it before that.

I always,

always,

wanted to call you.

How fucking sad is
it that your dead?

I never had a plan
of racing satellites,

arching comets,

blocking light from
different points of view.

Eclipsing everywhere
very high above us.

And all that must be very,

very beautiful.

But, here is where you left me.

He goes to the hospital
because he's not really sure

where you go to take
care of funeral stuff.

If you need a death
certificate nulled first.

He parks in the hospital
paid parking lot.

And when he leaves,

he deposits 50 cents
into the parking machine.

And the little music comes on.

And hits him.

That its brutal that
he's paying for this.

Without Mary around
to collect them,

the birds in her tree
houses are laying more eggs

then they know what to do with.

He still building obsessively.

Just pounding nails into
all the rooms of his house.

For another 20 years,
another 20 years,

he wandered around that house

tacking on walls.

I remember one of the rooms
had dropped ceiling tiles

as wall paper.

For 20 years and walking
around Leonard's house

all these beautiful
little touches,

the light bulb corners
of the door frames,

the carefully rounded moldings,

and smooth old cloth wallpaper.

The strange chicken
weather vane,

all the beautiful touches
kind of made you marvel

at the rest of the world too.

And so I was reaching,
I was looking,

and the most massive
thing I could think of,

I always imagined
outer space beaming.

A hectic swirling
mass like the ocean.

So I rented all these films,

I watched all this NASA footage.

Hours and hours of it.

And space is boring.

It's really kind of boring.

And I've been showing
this film for awhile

and I realize that
I'm wrong about space

because people started
sending me photographs

of like a solar flare,
and a comet shaped

like a dachshund and
you know I realized that

I'm wrong about space.

That it's gorgeous

and fascinating in a
way that's far to large

for me to comprehend.

All that teaming, swirling
mass is intermingling

over such an enormous field

and so unbelievable
that I can't fathom it.

But, I leave that
part in there because,

you know, I like to think
Leonard was on to something.

That our understanding of
this stuff at this point

is the equivalent of
dipping a drinking glass

into the ocean.

Holding it up to
light and saying,

there is no life in there.

Our nets just aren't big enough.

And when Leonard died,
the only thing in his

safe deposit box was this letter

he wrote to Mary in 1985.

And Mary died in 1972,

so 13 years after her death.

And it says, Dear Wife Mary,

I love you so.

Please if you will let
me hear from you darling.

Perhaps, you can make
some words appear through

the written medium, like this.

I won't be frightened
to feel so close to you,

loving you so much.

I miss you more,

all the time.

Please, if no other way,

maybe you could somehow
allow yourself to manifest

in my dreams.

I miss you, I love you

so very, very much.

I have never wanted any
release friend of mine

restored to life since
I reached manhood.

I'm not one to argue
with Mark Twain

in any kind of way.

And anyway, I don't
think anyone wants to see

the guest of Paul Bunyan
still fucking shit up.

Or Harry Houdini,

floating like a balloon,

tied to the Flat Iron
Building with chains.

Or doors slamming
shut, I promise,

I won't be frightened.

I promise to not be afraid.

I do wonder if Leonard
gave up there at the end.

The last time he tried
to climb the roof

with his hammer
trying to convince God

to send an angel
with Mary in his arms

back down to him.

Or maybe send someone
to bring him up to her.

And saw the shepherd
sleeping in the valley full

of dead sheep.

The shepherd stands up and
tips his hat to Leonard.

And Leonard,

falls off the roof of the house.

When he gives up on the miracle

he stumbling with the hammer,

fumbling it and
chases it a little,

kneeling, loses his balance,
and falls of the roof.

I feel the same way about
God I feel about miracles,

I would call on them.

I would call on them.

I would call on them.

If I believed in them.

If I believed in them,

I'd be over and over let down.

Gravity was
everywhere back then.