Something's growing under that wing
I think a face is dawning
Oh no, the books are growing faces
And you're lost quite classically
With your nose in a book
And it seems so fitting
And perhaps this is the end we've sought after
for so long, and perhaps now it's done.
'Cause we found all entire dreams of
Men and machines and turned them all around
Our identical hands, composing are commands.
I cut the moon in half and stuck a piece to my hair
It made the back of my head glow golden-yellow
And then I took ten stars on sticks and placed them
In my small metal bucket, I gave the other half of
the moon to you, oh, so you wouldn't forget me
While I'm gone.
'Cause we found all entire dreams of
Men and machines and turned them all around
To enjoy them and benefit ourselves,
our paperback books, our charming looks
Our identical hands, composing are commands.
And oh, my love we could live on the sun.
And wouldn't we be attractive riding in our
shiny motorcars with eyeglasses full of stars
and plenty of paper for scenery paintings?
'Cause we found all entire dreams of
Men and machines and turned them all around
To enjoy them and benefit ourselves,
our paperback books, our charming looks
Our identical hands, composing are commands. |
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