Saturday, September 24, 2011

Thursday, September 22, 2011

maybe it's someone standing in the killers place


Sundown in the Paris of the prairies
Wheat Kings have all their treasures barried
All you hear are the rusty breezes
Hanging around the weather vane Jesus

In a zippo lighter you see the killer's face
Maybe it's someone standing in the killers place
Twenty Years for nothing well that nothing new
Besides no one is interested in what you didn't do
Wheat Kings and pretty things,
Lets just see what the morning brings

There's a dream he dreams where the high school is dead and stark
It's a museum and we're al locked up and after dark up in it and after dark
Where the walls are lined all yellow gray and sinister
Hung with pictures of our parents prime ministers
Wheat Kings and pretty things,
Lets just see what the tomorrow brings

Late breaking story on the CBC,
A nation whispers "we always know he'd go free"
They add "you can't be fond of living in the past,
Cause if you are then there is no way you are going to last"
Wheat Kings and pretty things,
Lets just see what the morning brings
Wheat Kings and pretty things,
Thats what the morning brings

Thursday, September 8, 2011

you turn me on


We can talk all night, we can talk all day
We can play charades when there is nothing to say
You turn me on to the idea of growing old

I can make you angry you can make me a smile
We can make origami with the kids for a while
You turn me on to the idea of growing old

Now it wont be long
No, it wont be long
You turn me on to the idea of growing old

We can lay around and count the number of times
I've acted foolish and you've rolled your eyes
You turn me on to the idea of growing old

You in your kerchief, and me in my cap
We can settle down for an afternoon nap
You turn me on to the idea of growing old

Now it wont be long
No, it wont be long
You turn me on to the idea of growing old