If I was a baby with nothing to hide I would be saving prayers all of the time I would not think of to whom they're addressed I'd have my mouth on the mystery's breast
Little boy blue in the corn with his horn Pouring out music the day he was born Son of a gun and it's holster in love He can't remember what he is made of
Ooooh
Teenage maria is caught in the door Not understanding what her body's for All of the pieces begin to align Sick to her stomach she feels like she's flying
Man with a magazine over his face Wishes that he was in some other place Life is a waiting room for those who wait All of it's terrible all of it's great
Ooooh
Grandfather elliott out on the beach Watching ma's paper blow out of his reach He cannot tell her his soul could be going So busy always with his bluster and blowing
If I was a baby and I could be blessed I would sing true love out of your chest I'd get the paper I'd get myself dressed I'd keep my mouth on the mystery's breast
Ooooh
Compositor: Ezra Mordechai Furman ECAD: Obra #12919341