Pure shapes race around the house
Green thumbs left behind
There's glee between the cherry tree chops
At night while the master dines
We lie awake
'Til the humor runs dry
Tiptoe to the high dive
Climb for what seems like a mile
Make like a pencil and fasten my eyes
Feel the air rush by
Under the splash
I reach for the side
A puzzle within a puzzle
The cardboard casts do nothing
But pass the time and fill the lines
That hold the empty space
We roll the dice
Leave ourselves to chance
The clock moves a little bit slower
As we count through the garland of roses
We hold back our laughter 'cause it's not a joke
And wonder how long we'll burn
Oh, we'll burn
My teacher told me so
The blue boy's horn goes quiet
The snuff box rests unwound
The fortune wheel and ill-timed meals
Get lost on the auction block
Going once
Sold, sold, sold