time, all the long red lines

that take control

of all the smokelike streams

that flow into your dreams

that big blue open sea

that can't be crossed

that can't be climbed

just born between

oh the two white lines

distant gods and faded signs

of all those blinking lites

you had to pick the one tonite



holes, dug by little moles

angry jealous spies

got telephones for eyes

come to you as friends

all those endless ends

that can't be tied

oh they make me laugh

and always make me cry

'til they drop like flies

and sink like polished stones

of all the stones I throw

how does that old song go

how does that old song go



bands, those funny little plans

that never work quite right