from the songs album Mag Earwhig
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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