Из альбома: Good Old Water
thunder comes but once a year
and lightning comes but twice
the man who's watching from your ceiling hole
is really just the mice
the ghosts of words and songs you never wrote,
or at least forgot to write down
your hand was halted by a single silent sound.
fireworks in the dead of night
followed by the rising sun
and when a thousand songs play randomly,
you hear just the one,
you need to find a bit of clarity,
again trust the red tatoo,
and see that after all maybe someone dosen't have it in for you.
'cause the bells you think are beautiful
are ringing just the same
your not the hunchback that you thought you were
'cause you have your own name
and even if there ins a tiny crack,
you have the skill to weld
and when it's done you'll again
hold the ropes you held
and even though it's twine
youv'e got six hundred strands together
in a straight line
straight into the dirt and down the desolate path
to the middle of the damp earth
eating your way through hell
to sell the devil back his suprise:
a muscle disease and a big barrel of wine
you know i just can't stand to see
you float away into the sea
'cause i know you could be a sailor
and it's just temporary i guess
the forces are at work here
that we both know all to well
from the beach i'll call you back home
with my shell.
and together on the sand
we'll cast away the paw you got
when everything started turning sour
and you lost all your luck
and the ocean it will break the spell
you will finally be free...
when you wake up tomorrow morning you will see.