praise the stones below my feet
& the walls on the street
i’m praising everything that i meet
walking down the road
was it june or was it july?
we couldn’t think of anything
& if the path is always round
our feet were buried in the ground
i’m going to die & when i die i’m gonna wake up
like a flower in a field now the winter’s done
people come & people go
whatever stays i don’t know
she took her clothes off in the bus
& the evening fell like dust
morning sun, blinking eyes
holograms, getting wise
now the weather’s turning clear
dots like you just disappear
i’m going to die & when i die i’ll wake up
like a flower in a field now the winter’s done
