After the moon comes up, all of the toys behind closed doors
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open their eyes and move their squeaky joints across the floor.
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Rocking horses run, tinker toys assembling,
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twisting mobile stars, dancing dolls and spinning cars.
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Stop, will you stop? Will you stop and speak to me?
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Wake, I know you're awake. Move your mouth and speak to me.
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I'm not the kind who will take it for granted,
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no, I'm not the kind who will take it for granted.
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How I would like to know all the toy soldiers in a row,
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marching to and fro, all the tin soldiers in a row.
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Tiny painted mouths, how I wish you'd utter now,
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words of nursery rhyme, tongue and teeth all click in time.
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Stop, will you stop? Will you stop and speak to me?
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Wake, I know you're awake. Move your mouth and speak to me.
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I'm not the kind who will take you for granted,
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no, I'm not the kind who will take you for granted.
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Lullaby
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| Eisley |
