Something's growing under that wing,
I think a face is dawning... oh no, the bugs are growing faces.
And you're lost quite classically with your nose in a book,
And it seems so fitting, and
Perhaps this is the end we've sought after for so long
And perhaps now it's done.
Because we've found all the dire dreams,
Of men and machines and,
Turned them all around our identical hands,
Composing our commands.
I cut the moon in half,
And stuck a piece through my hair -- it made the back of my head glow
Golden yellow and then I took
Ten stars on sticks and placed them in my small metal...
Bucket and I gave the other half of the moon to you...
So you wouldn't forget me while I'm gone.
Because we've found all the dire dreams,
Of men and machines and,
Turned them all around to enjoy them and benefit ourselves.
Our paperback books, our charming looks --
Our identical hands composing our commands.
And my love,
We can live on the sun.
And wouldn't we be attractive...
Riding in our shining motor cars,
With eyeglasses full of stars,
And plenty of paper for scenery paintings?
Because we've found all the dire dreams,
Of men and machines and,
Turned them all around to enjoy them and benefit ourselves.
Our paperback books, our charming looks --
Our identical hands composing our commands.
