Testi:
Yorke Thom

A self-fulfilling prophecy of endless possibility You roll in reams across the street In algebra, in algebra The fences that you cannot climb The sentences

No more going to the dark side with your flying saucer eyes No more falling down a wormhole that I have to pull you out The wriggling, squiggling worm

Try to save it but it doesn't come off the rock Try to build a wall that is high enough It's all boiling over a All boiling over Try to save your house

Time is running out for us But you just move the hands upon the clock You throw coins in the wishing well For us You just move your hands upon the wall

I'm in a skip divided malfunction I flap around and dive bomb Frantically around your light Enveloped in a sad distraction I got your voice repeating

Try to save it but it doesn't come off the rug Try to build a wall that is high enough It's all boiling over, all boiling over Try to save your house

Waking up and the bed was made No one looked me in the eye The more I tried, the more I cried But it's all for the best Watch my brother cutting grass

No more going to the dark side With your flying saucer eyes No more falling down a wormhole That I have to pull you out Wriggling, twiggling worm inside

And it rained all night and washed the filth away Down New York air-conditioned drains Oh, the click click clack of the heavy black trains A million engines