(set to simple
chords)
Little mouse staring at a round yellow
moon;
“Is it small and close or big and far
away?”
He thinks to himself as he ponders the
moon,
“Yes I believe I'd like to visit it one
day.
Here on Earth I've got this hole in the
ground.
It's comfy and all but I feel my time's
running out.”
The river runs high on the days that I
am feeling washed about and waterlogged
down.
They tend to be accompanied by tears and
raindrops.
From the sky and my eyes they work their
way out.
So many things remain that I didn't get
to say,
And my memories of you get just a bit
cloudier,
a bit hazier everyday.
Me
and Mr. Mouse,
We
like to drink coffee and discuss the clouds.
I
don't understand every word that he says but
that's
nothing new
it's
nothing different to me.
In
so many ways I don't understand everything.
All the great notions on the stars and
the skies
Are just guesses the astronomers make.
I caught them discussing the new theory
on Mars
Over whiskey and a line of cocaine.
Whatever their thoughts are I'll consider
as I consider my own.
The truth is most likely a blend of it
all, of the many versions you and I have known.
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