| Go your way, I’ll take the long way wrong,
|
| Oh, I’ll find my own way down,
|
| As I should.
|
| Hold your games, this coconut miles touch,
|
| Are joking the way that we rust
|
| And breathe again.
|
| And you’ll find the oats
|
| And you’ll fear what you found.
|
| And where it comes tear ‘em down.
|
| The oats in the water, they’ll be birds on the ground
|
| They’ll be things you never asked her,
|
| Oh, I hate to let you know.
|
| Go your way, I’ll take the long way wrong,
|
| Oh, I’ll find my own way down,
|
| As I should.
|
| Hold your games, this coconut miles touch,
|
| Are joking the way that we rust
|
| And breathe again.
|
| And you’ll find the oats
|
| And you’ll fear what you found.
|
| And where it comes tear ‘em down.
|
| The oats in the water, they’ll be birds on the ground
|
| They’ll be things you never asked her,
|
| Oh, I hate to let you know. |