Look at these fantastic,
American sensations.
Burgers and milkshakes and,
a valley of ashes.
Look at us standing still,
on a supernatural land.
Whilst some God is riding high,
in his ordinary heaven.
Won't you please return me my clothes?
I left them on the post of his over-bearing bed.
Is it true at some point we all have to stand naked?
I'd rather be dead.
Look at me, looking at myself.
Look at us.
Gather your problems and plant them,
don't talk about them.
Allow them to fester and and in time they will grow,
nourish them, cherish them,
in time they will flow
The tree's still there.
Stop looking at me.
Fruit from that big tree will bloom.
We'll pick them and blitz them like soup,
and slurp them through a spoon 'cause we wont have any teeth.