my litlle velcro twineis in a state were the cars don¹t drive
and the people stare at number five in gold
didn¹t I tell you you¹ld be happy
didn¹t I tell you it¹s a sell-out
even your mother will be proud
my little sense of time
is big enough to count the seconds
between a fine toast and a toast that¹s made to burn
don¹t this lack of color suit me
or shall I chase another greyhound
bark my day
all of my wheels are turning
both of my hands are burning
follow the sons of grey
find me a cloud that¹s yurning
find me a sheep that¹s kerning
find me the sons of grey
through windows we gaze at concrete that plays
songs of grey the bricks are in place
my spoon¹s on a tray songs of grey
crossfading the goat that sleeps in my throat
songs of grey emergency rhymes
to polish the chymes songs of grey