: The old Rocker wore his hair too long, wore his trouser cuffs too tight. Unfashionable to the end drank his ale too light. Death's head belt buckle
: Sitting on a park bench -- eyeing little girls with bad intent. Snot running down his nose -- greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes. Drying in
: Meanwhile back in the year One, when you belonged to no-one, you didn't stand a chance son, if your pants were undone. 'Cause you were bred for
: You'll hear me calling in your sweet dream, can't hear your daddy's warning cry. You're going back to be all the things you want to be, while in
: Walking through forests of palm tree apartments scoff at the monkeys who live in their dark tents down by the waterhole drunk every Friday, eating
: Let me bring you songs from the wood: to make you feel much better than you could know. Dust you down from tip to toe. Show you how the garden grows
: The minstrel in the gallery looked down upon the smiling faces. He met the gazes observed the spaces between the old men's cackle. He brewed a
: Lend me your ear while I call you a fool. You were kissed by a witch one night in the wood, and later insisted your feelings were true. The witch
: Really don't mind if you sit this one out. My words but a whisper - your deafness a shout! I may make you feel but I can't make you think. Your
: When you're falling awake and you take stock of the new day, and you hear your voice croak as you choke on what you need to say, well, don't you
: In the shuffling madess of the locomotive breath, runs the all-time loser, headlong to his death. He feels the piston scraping steam breaking
: Happy and I'm smiling, walk a mile to drink your water. You know I'd love to love you, and above you there's no other. We'll go walking out while
When you're falling awake and you take stock of the new day, and you hear your voice croak as you choke on what you need to say, well, don't you fret
Sitting on a park bench -- eyeing little girls with bad intent. Snot running down his nose -- greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes. Drying in the
In the shuffling madess of the locomotive breath, runs the all-time loser, headlong to his death. He feels the piston scraping steam breaking on
Let me bring you songs from the wood: to make you feel much better than you could know. Dust you down from tip to toe. Show you how the garden grows
You'll hear me calling in your sweet dream, can't hear your daddy's warning cry. You're going back to be all the things you want to be, while in sweet
Happy and I'm smiling, walk a mile to drink your water. You know I'd love to love you, and above you there's no other. We'll go walking out while
