Print

Stacked near your bedside, books you've begunWith dog eared good intention they're all suggested by someoneColorful little fictions about animals on paradeThe lions and crows have unionized and they're marching for wageAndrew became a wandererStalked by the bloody hunterAnd rest for him it was foretold, in a city whose streets are paved with goldThe great big depression, machines have won the warThe fallow soil, the market crash, and the motor oilThe boy flies off westward on star spangled wings And brings back the dawn over the eastern seasAndrew became a wandererStalked by the bloody hunterAnd rest for him it was foretold, in a city whose streets are paved with goldWritten on the spine of every holy lowly man, woman, creature and childA love letter in kind Aus Songtexte Mania