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Stone-cutters made them from stones |
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Chosen specially for you and I |
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Who will live inside? |
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The mountaineers gathered timber piled high |
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In which to take along |
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Traveling many miles knowing they'd get here |
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When they got here all exhausted |
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On the roof leaks they got started |
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And now when the rain comes we can be thankful |
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When the mountaineers saw that everything fit |
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They were glad and so they took off |
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Thought we were due for a change |
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Or two around this place |
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When they got back they're all mixed up |
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With no one to stay with |
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The village used to be all one really needs |
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Now it's filled with hundreds and hundreds of chemicals |
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That mostly surround you, you wish to flee |
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But it's not like you, so listen to me, listen to me |
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Oh, and when the morning comes |
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We will step outside |
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We will not find another man in sight |
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We like the newness, the newness of all |
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That has grown in our garden |
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Struggling for so long |
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Whenever I was a child |
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I wonder what if my name had changed |
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Into something more productive |
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Like Roscoe been born in 1891 |
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Waiting with my aunt Roselin |
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Thought we were due for a change |
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Or two around this place |
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When they got back they're all mixed up |
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With no one to stay with |
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1891 they roamed around and foraged |
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They made their house from cedars |
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They made their house from stone |
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Well, they're a little like you |
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And they're a little like me |
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We have all we need |
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Thought we were due for a change |
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Or two around this place |
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This place, this place |
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When they got back they're all mixed up |
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With no one to stay with |
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When they got back they're all mixed up |
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With no one to stay with |
