Grade - Twenty Moons Lyrics
with broken arms,a nasty note and a dead rat,I carry with meher suspension of disbeliefwhy cant I be the geniuswho solved the greatestproblems of his timeam I even beyondmetaphorical assistancewhy must I be a paint brushwhen we need a wrenchher arrival at the correct velocityin order to perceivehas been cancelled, and filed awaythis abstraction shallrepeat in sequence