| Mother, feeling your hand, eye
|
| Believe you and I did then
|
| And mother, release every bad seed
|
| The geese are leaving the trees
|
| Exposed to winter’s cold
|
| They waited too long
|
| But we too exaggerated and now take the cake away
|
| It’s a long song and I can’t play it so
|
| Give me a grip now, collector of bones
|
| Worlds of smoke
|
| Distorted mirror broken, paradise is open but I choke
|
| One of these days when I see through the smoke
|
| There’ll be the day I get the joke
|
| Exposed to winter’s cold
|
| They waited too long
|
| But we too exaggerated and now take the cake away
|
| It’s a long song and I can’t play it so
|
| Give me a grip now, collector of bones
|
| Worlds of smoke
|
| Distorted mirror broken, paradise is open but I choke
|
| One of these days when I see through the smoke
|
| There’ll be the day I get the joke |