Tall Tales For Spring
God rest his head Sunday afternoon, andThe wicked in me is surly the wicked in youWe pray to a ghost that we never metTime turns for a cure, for the scientists for
Madness, madness of the heartbut you knew it, you knew it from the start
And Hawking will tell us no tall tales this springMy eyes saw the chaos that stared everythingMaybe it's faith, and the sadness takes holdSill stars through the window, will ever know this
Madness, madness of the heartbut you knew it, you knew it from the startThere's a madness, a madness of the heartbut you knew it, you knew it from the start
Stare a sleepy smile into a sun beamThere's nothing more than a daydreamColored stained glass cathedralConfines a past that wont let you go
God rest his head Sunday afternoonAnd the wicked in me is surly coming throughPray to a ghost that I've never met(don't pill?) someway out of this mess
It's the heartIt's the heartAnd there is a madness, a madness in the starsBut you knew it, you knew it from the start
HmmmmmmmmmHmmmmmmmmmHmmmmmmmmm