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sit down and fire away, i know it's tricky when you're feeling low, when you feel like your flavour has gone the way of a pre-shelled pistachio... i know you're weighed down you're fed up with your heavy your boots laced with melancholy notion's all you own... i do - like sugar - tend toward the brittle and sticky when spun and i know my demeanor has gone the way of a photo left out in the sun... so i try to keep myself in lillies and flax seeds... oh what a folly- fooling just yourself... sit down and smoke away,i wouldn't knock it till you're in them shoes oh watch as ours subtlety blows away as a blusher gives way to a bruise... but seemly, we'd freely make a trade-off a dry rot to take the weight off swap the boots for red shoes |
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