It's time to brood
|
Put up the walls of sound
|
And practice all the finer points
|
Of falling down
|
|
I'll put aside
|
The calculated eyes
|
The even tempered smile
|
Diffuse again
|
|
Given time to discuss these points with
|
Outside help I could still these friends in my
|
Heading out to the trees I see myself
|
|
I hide in green
|
Recall the faded dreams
|
Collide my scope divides
|
And leaves the team
|
|
Beyond the veil
|
I watch the line extend
|
A helping hand withdraws
|
The line again
|
|
Given time to discuss these points with
|
Outside help I could still these friends in my
|
Heading out to the trees I see myself
|
|
Is that an angel on it's side
|
Next to the postman drifting by
|
I once had a dream that I could fly
|
Into the trees
|
|
It's time to brood
|
Put up the walls of sound
|
And practice all the finer points
|
Of falling down
|
|
I'll put aside
|
The calculated eyes
|
The even tempered smile
|
Collapse again
|
|
-----------------
|
Trees
|
| Curt Smith |
