| We try and listen close
|
| But where we live is far too high to hear
|
| Why don’t we come down from this
|
| And leave the fiction to the fool that fears
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| Little tired
|
| (We are) All a little tired, oh
|
| (We are) All a little tired
|
| (We are) All a little tired, oh
|
| (We are)
|
| We’re trying to hear a ghost
|
| But just below the bough is ancient soil
|
| Breathing out complex compost
|
| But from above it will always seem like dirt
|
| A little tired
|
| It’s about that time
|
| All a little tired
|
| (We are) All a little tired, oh
|
| (We are) All a little tired
|
| (We are) All a little tired, oh
|
| (We are) All a little tired
|
| (We are) All a little tired, oh
|
| (We are)
|
| Some would have it known this is how it is
|
| And how it’s been
|
| Or is it because they can’t convince themselves
|
| To put away the book and pull themselves to Earth with all?
|
| (We are) All a little tired
|
| (We are) All a little tired, oh
|
| (We are) All a little tired
|
| (We are) All a little tired, oh
|
| (We are) All a little tired
|
| (We are) All a little tired, oh
|
| (We are)
|
| (We are) All a little tired, oh
|
| (We are) |