| 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,
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| 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. |