Lyrics
I can’t know what i should say
To soothe your headaches and make your day reasonable
The constant change of folks don’t stay the same
They fly by night and crawl by day
I could try the holy chord. the seeds of hay, the hay of the march,
they’re all the same in different ways like poultry games and the baptist
monks who raised these chickens as their own personal slaves
The hee, the caw, the chain, the battery thinking chain of songs and games,
who could say what we can go changing
What cool solvent rubs away the steam stuck to our eyes and stuck in our
closets?
The same great messages that are wrapped up in the same vain messages that
always stay the same. what does it mean to take off all our clothes and look
into your eyes and say i mean it?