(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.