| Lyrics: | All trees are oaks,
All birds are blue.
In the mountains of a magnet,
Are the mountains
of you
I'm proud of my genius, just like a painter
And dumb like a poet I think
I can
just say it from the throats of our wrists,
With full sets of teeth,
Vanilla almond
teeth.
From vanilla almond tea spent afternoons measuring time in spoons
A southern run for
a late longing to drink.
What's 80 miles in Canada or 18 years in the mountains?
Where
all trees are oaks and all birds are blue, ach' du
I thought everyone was you.
Where
forget-me-nots and marigolds and other things
That don't get old
Don't get old between one
june and september
You're all I remember
But I'm a lantern, my head a moon.
I married a
room where I'll at least keep my hands in order,
And what about the air, lying awake. |
