My sister had a nursery rhyme set of figurines she'd often let me play with them, i'd set 'em up in different scenes fifty plastic army men, led by superman destroyed the ranks of mother goose mary and her little
Lamb slips away and catches sister getting real and I can too, as long as I don't make a sound
When we were real we were in love with everyone and everything, I guess it was the beauty of bluebird clears his throat of phlegm and static singing operatic evening comes, and the butterflies are
Bats eat the spider that had saddled up beside her and the dish, his lovin' spoon were never found and i'm taking flight seeking relief, the lure of handkerchief so white I chase it straight into the ground
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