all the winters're gonna be warm
all my sisters're gonna be dolls
all my ice-creams'll never melt
all my sunshines will never fade
as i stay away.
i am placed in a place of no place
with a grace of disgrace
with a smile slowly fading
as the blood slowly leaving
with a soul descending -
this mess we're in.
while Thom yorks
and Tom waits.
and i raised
with my rays
rays of Charles
Lennon's lenses
arms of Armstrong
we're blockheads
locked
in old oak
knock twice
if you want to be noticed
we'll let you in.
i bet u're real
i bet u're warm
left hand snakes your pockets
worn worn worn
old fashioned scarecrows
with pocketfull of worms
in the cold cold ground
getting old old
but i don't wanna grow up
so i grow down
underground
grow grow
crow crow
into the darkness
soil chews me
i choose you
- don't lose
down we go
here we are -
in the downfields
darkfields
trying
to
save
the crops