And there's a tree out in
Nigeria, that harbors quiet
Most come for comfort in shade,
Unaware of a cure for incurable
There's walls here in the canyon,
Some believe in their banding,
Most come for the tanning,
Unaware of soft expanding.
And there's a moon on the horizon
That promises the sun to the horizon
And it'll follow you forever
I explore all that's been used
There's a poor writer there in
Whose head is nothing but troublin'
All day his haunted heart screams are
When you go to view the casket,
you forget all you needed
It's unthinkable until you mask it.
It's unshrinkable until you
No one knows its antenna.
It'll stumble you, and it'll send you
It'll crumble you, and it'll bend you
You want to put down a track and I'll
play to it and I'll do it that way?