I'm moving your mental feet
|
In complex dances and jigs
|
I'll loosen up your consciousness
|
Like a syrup of figs
|
It's time to emerge from camouflage leaves and twigs
|
Time to throw the fake noses and fright wigs
|
Time to face the music
|
No more metaphor
|
Time to decide your fate
|
Will you be cooked or go raw
|
Will you be
|
Rare and bloody with your soul exposed
|
Or well done
|
a charcoal surface with your insides froze
|
and do you feel fear
|
as you hear
|
another door close
|
or will you just turn away
|
and flow where the wind blows
|
and are you still satisfied with the pathways you chose
|
or would you like to go back
|
and rewrite the old prose
|
|
[CHORUS]
|
|
Do you count the flakes
|
When it snows
|
And can you feel the heat
|
or only the afterglows
|
Do you count the flakes
|
When it snows
|
do you count the leaves when they fall
|
can you feel anything at all
|
do you count the leaves when they fall
|
(yeah)
|
|
Does your life sometimes feel like one big fake orgasm
|
A gut reaction
|
Instinctive spasm
|
in the chasm
|
And do your problems metamorphose
|
into rubiks cubes
|
Keep twisting and turning
|
Becoming more confused
|
Do you sometimes feel
|
like you've been used and abused
|
Your not visibly black and blue
|
But on the inside bruised
|
And does your love life
|
leave you feeling kinda bemused
|
You've played all the games
|
And you're no longer amused
|
|
[CHORUS]
|
|
Sometimes it feels like I'm looking through a pain of glass
|
I can see your mouth move but can't hear the words
|
|
[CHORUS]
|
|
-----------------
|
Snowflakes
|
| Just Jack |
