Guided By Voices
The Finest Joke Is Upon Us
Mother, feeling your hand I Believe you and I did then And mother, release every bad seed The geese are leaving the trees
Exposed to winter's cold They waited too long But we too exaggerated And I take the cake away It's a long song And I can play it so Give me a pick now collector of bones
Words of smoke Distorted, never broken Paradise is open but I choke One of these days when I see through the smoke That'll be the day I get the joke
(repeat from "exposed to winter's cold")
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