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| Warren |
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Pure shapes race around the house Green thumbs left behind There's glee between the cherry tree chops At night while the master dines We lie awake 'Til the humor runs dry Tiptoe to the high dive Climb for what seems like a mile Make like a pencil and fasten my eyes Feel the air rush by Under the splash I reach for the side A puzzle within a puzzle The cardboard casts do nothing But pass the time and fill the lines That hold the empty space We roll the dice Leave ourselves to chance The clock moves a little bit slower As we count through the garland of roses We hold back our laughter 'cause it's not a joke And wonder how long we'll burn Oh, we'll burn My teacher told me so The blue boy's horn goes quiet The snuff box rests unwound The fortune wheel and ill-timed meals Get lost on the auction block Going once Sold, sold, sold |
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