A daydream spills from my corked head
|
Breaks free of my wooden neck
|
Left a nod over sleeping waves
|
Like bobbing bait for bathing cod
|
Floating flocks of candled swans
|
Slowly drift across wax ponds
|
|
The men all played along
|
To marching drums
|
And boy did they have fun
|
Behind the sea
|
They sang (hey!)
|
So our matching legs
|
Are marching clocks
|
And we're all too small
|
To talk to God
|
Yes, we're all too smart
|
To talk to God
|
|
Toast the fine folks casting silver crumbs
|
To us from the dock
|
Jinxed things ringing as they leak
|
Through tiny cracks in the boardwalk
|
Scarecrow, now it's time to hatch
|
Sprouting sons and ageless daughters
|
|
Don't you know
|
Don't you know
|
That those watermelon smiles
|
Just can't ripen underwater
|
Just can't ripen underwater
|
|
The men all played along
|
To marching drums
|
And boy did they have fun
|
Behind the sea
|
They sang (hey!)
|
So our matching legs
|
Are marching clocks
|
And we're all too small
|
To talk to God
|
Yeah, we're all too smart
|
To talk to God
|
Oh, we're all too smart
|
To talk to God
|
|
Ooooh
|
|
Legs of wood waves, waves of wooden legs
|
Waves of wooden legs
|
Legs of wood waves, waves of wooden legs
|
Waves of wooden legs
|
Legs of wood waves, waves of wooden legs
|
Waves of wooden legs
|
Legs of wood waves, waves of wooden legs
|
Waves of wooden legs
|
|
Oooooh
|
|
"So close"
|
|
-----------------
|
Behind The Sea
|
| Panic! At The Disco |
