So, we'll play it out like
Young children in beat up
Wranglers jeans
Taping mohawks to the heads of
G.I. Joes and
Screaming out for our
All American Hero
What you can't hear, nobody knows
So Elliott goes
I will wish you a ring of gold
A cloak of white
I will wish you a Solemn Sunday
I will blow you a kiss from the south wind
Your hands tied by the weight of it
What you can't catch, you cannot hold
So Elliott goes
I like living by this lake
The breeze carries in all the sadness
The tears of a thousand dead sailors
Hit the ground with the rain
Elliott, what a shame that
Your hands are freed by the weight of it
What you can catch you certainly can hold
So Elliott goes