Many a hand has scaled the grand old face of the plateau. Some belong to strangers, and some to folks you know. Holy ghosts and talk show hosts are planted in the sand.
Where do bad folks go when they die?. They don't go to heaven where the angels fly. They go to the lake of fire and fry. Won't see them again 'till the fourth of July.
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A long time ago. I turned to myself and said. "You are my daughter". . I saw that image. I saw there was well. . Well, then maybe we've got. Something to talk about.
Two rivers rolling by. Two waters side by side. Never touching, they remain. Two rivers never meet. . When they meet the waters change. Two waters, one name.
It's the shadow in the dark. The silver in the park. It's the broken, faded bird. You've learned to call your heart. . It's hotter than you can seek. Plainer than you or me.
The sun is up and beating down. Hot enough to melt the ground. A little water would do us good. . The clouds would help us if they could. They'd send showers of pouring rain.
Let me see everything. Let me live forever. Give me wings and show me how. To control the weather. . Give me the mountains. Give me the sea. Build a mighty tower.
Many a hand has scaled the grand old face of the plateau. Some belong to strangers and some to folks you know. Holy ghosts and talk show hosts are planted in the sand.
Out my way. Days turns days. Days in grace. Out my way. . Blue hands face. Good night's lace. Out in storms. Lights embrace. . Down in its cave. My heart lays.
Six straight rolls in a blind man's game. Half a dozen snake eyes all the time. Roll those hollow dice. Holler to an echo. Another time. To the other side.
Back before the days, back before the water. The invisible waves slammed the primal notion. They said you were wrong, though you had connected. These watery songs cleverly perfected.
I've been down to the corner about once or twice. I don't know but it's been nice, I ain't got no money. I can't buy a damn thing that I might like. Let's go down to the dime store.
Fiery spider, candy stars in bloom. Crystal fire fractures, sparks into the room. Shadow seams have opened. Right inside the blaze to catch the spinning.
Where do bad folks go when they die?. They don't go to heaven where the angels fly. They go to a lake of fire and fry. Won't see 'em again till the 4th of July.
Give me lots of money. A house upon a hill. Send me pretty women. Or threaten me and still. I'll come up to your house. And attempt to fix your sink. Do a mediocre job.
Way off down the road. There comes Wagon Red. Found himself a nickel. Went straight to his head. . Get on down. Get on down. Get on down, whoa. . I looked out my window.
Pistachios turn your fingers red. Row your way back home you know. Roll right into bed. Pick it up in a week or two. . Flags jump out your head. Row your way back home you know.
I lost my mind a couple of gals ago. I left behind, never saw it go. Just a little bit of snow out on the leaves. Just confusion drifting, swirling to my knees.