|
I slip back down where we found |
|
A meter milling maze, |
|
And the rest that we find sound. |
|
Will it find us on the bottom? |
|
Will we find our way? |
|
Will we fall apart useless machining the made? |
|
Find that sleep that we've lost. |
|
Fair and tired living, |
|
Lives like little lifted leans. |
|
Shaking heads under the shade |
|
Of them bright, bright, bright sweet pear trees. |
|
Mine is gone with the day, |
|
Never miss a beat, never find a home. |
|
Mine is gone with all time, all time. |
|
Mother, father, brother, sister, son, daughters, |
|
We are the rabbit that let the fox lead us. |
|
Out in the sun with the cold war fever, |
|
Don't need to beg for your money, just please don't eat us, |
|
Deaf like the big guns foaming, |
|
At the mouth, they're gnashing, |
|
Quiet like our words that roam and roll about. |
|
Let's march a train of thought to crack the boads, |
|
Then we'll find that sleep we lost, we lost. |
|
Then we'll find that sleep we lost, we lost. |
|
Then we'll find that sleep we lost, we lost. |
|
Then we'll find that sleep we lost, we lost. |
|
Then we'll find that sleep we lost, we lost. |
|
Then we'll find that sleep we lost, we lost. |
|
Then we'll find that sleep we lost, we lost. |
|
Then we'll find that sleep we lost, we lost. |
|
Then we'll find that sleep we lost, we lost. |
