She took a long cold look at me
|
and smiled and gazed all over my arm
|
she loves to see me get down to ground
|
she hasn't time just to be with me
|
her face between all she means to be
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to be extreme, just to be extreme
|
a broken pier on the wavy sea
|
she wonders why for all she wants to see...
|
But I got up and I stomped around
|
and hid the piece where the trees touch the ground...
|
|
The end of truth that lay out the time
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spent lazing here on a painting dream
|
a mile or more in a foreign clime
|
to see farther inside of me.
|
|
And looking high up into the sky
|
I breathe as the water streams over me...
|
|
-----------------
|
She Took A Long Cold Look
|
| Syd Barret |
