| you will never really know until
|
| youve learnt to lead
|
| never understand until youve sown the
|
| seed
|
| you can gather information with the
|
| will to read
|
| but youll never really know until
|
| youve sown the seed
|
| we live and learn to fly away
|
| travel through the clouds to fly
|
| away
|
| thought to save as blessins somedays
|
| learnt
|
| when tables turn and bridges soon
|
| then burn
|
| while the moral mans making trees
|
| from the gathered leaves
|
| we gather round the fire and smoke to sea
|
| for you will never know where some
|
| ideas can lead
|
| you will never know until youve sown
|
| the seed
|
| the sea
|
| way beyond the fond old river
|
| (way beyond the fond old river)
|
| Paint is bled to form the shiver
|
| shiver
|
| (shiver shiver shiver)
|
| while the metal gathers moss
|
| (while the metal gathers moss)
|
| and you standing on the gloss. |
| well
|
| we seem to only really know of these
|
| ways to feed
|
| microwave our meals the oranges
|
| we peel
|
| you can know the station by the sign
|
| you read
|
| but youll never really know until
|
| youve learnt to lead
|
| we live and learn to fly away
|
| travel through the clouds to find
|
| your way
|
| thought to save as blessins somedays
|
| learnt
|
| when thunder turns can blossom soon
|
| be earned?
|
| while the feral mans making trees
|
| from the gathered leaves
|
| we gathered round the fire and smoked
|
| the sea
|
| for you will never know where some
|
| ideas can lead
|
| you will never know until youve sown
|
| the seed
|
| way beyond the fond old river
|
| (way beyond the fond old river)
|
| Paint is bled to form the shiver
|
| shiver
|
| (shiver shiver shiver)
|
| while the metal gathers moss
|
| (while the metal gathers moss)
|
| and you standing on the gloss. |
| well
|
| we had. |
| we had admired to fly away
|
| we had. |
| we had admired to fly away
|
| again
|
| we had we had admired the flight to far away again
|
| now those lakes are stains. |
| drained
|
| and gone
|
| the leaves they float and somedays
|
| they do turn
|
| within that hole under sea
|
| way past the shell
|
| now you can see
|
| beyond those trees
|
| and tears could be ridden
|
| ignore the din of pained paper clones
|
| though |