| So can these shoes take me to
|
| Who I was before
|
| I was stabbing my sticks into
|
| A vulnerable earth?
|
| And I can almost outrun you
|
| And those stalking memories
|
| Did I somehow become you
|
| Without realising?
|
| Found a little patch of heaven now
|
| So then I’m gonna turn oysters in the sand
|
| 'Cause I’m working my way back
|
| I’m working my way back to me again
|
| Not every girl is a pearl
|
| With these ruby slippers
|
| With these ruby slippers
|
| So then I’m gonna turn oysters in the sand
|
| In the sand, in the sand
|
| Turn, turn, turn
|
| And there are forces of conflict
|
| Taking portions of my mind
|
| In whose realm laced with trickery
|
| The fragments I must find
|
| And I can almost outrun you
|
| And those stalking memories
|
| Did I somehow become you
|
| Without realising?
|
| Found a little patch of heaven now
|
| So then I’m gonna turn oysters in the sand
|
| 'Cause I’m working my way back
|
| I’m working my way back to me again
|
| Not every girl is a pearl
|
| With these ruby slippers
|
| With these ruby slippers
|
| So then I’m gonna turn oysters in the sand
|
| In the sand, in the sand
|
| Turn, turn, turn, turn
|
| Not every girl is popular
|
| Popular, popular
|
| Not every girl is a pearl
|
| With these ruby slippers
|
| With these ruby slippers
|
| So then I’m gonna turn oysters in the sand
|
| In the sand, in the sand
|
| Turn, turn, turn, turn, turn |