I got a postcard from a volcano Something 'bout a weather change
My my things have changed I wrote these words upon the ceiling Now I'm walking on the page That kept my broken world
Everyone's an open handed blind magician Everyone's a millionaire looking for a copper
Carving wooden spectacles Is nothing more than wishful thinking Read it on the line below
Coloured gold and green and purple Death is never what you know
I spent a month in addictions I'll never hail a cab again More from Wild Strawberries