Album: Perspectives
He wakes before they do,
Makes his way out to breakfast,
Finds himself a nice nook and lies in the shade,
The trees are conversing but you have to be quiet,
If you want to discern what they have to say.
Birds and bees are squawking,
With tense and tired hands,
But don't hold your hate against them,
They're just doing the best that they can.
He takes out a small boat,
The one just for tuesdays,
And paddles himself out to the middle of the bay,
Collecting vibrations to spread over dry land,
For each it'll (?) work in our own special way.
Birds and bees are squawking,
With tense and tired hands,
But don't hold your hate against them,
They're just doing the best that they can.
He waits for his sweet one to come home from the factory,
The humans need humans if they are to be free,
And all he ever wanted was to get caffinated,
somewhere kinda swedish where no one else could see.
And Ron Jon is wearing feathers,
While Ferg is having tea,
And Snitch is writing postcards,
Be good now, Toby,
Be good now, Toby.