Monday, 2 January 2012

Letter to Talbot

Wrote a letter to a friend called Talbot
Asked him what he was doing and where he was going
I had to get to him somehow before he slipped away
He took a trip to the moon suspended from a silver spoon
I kind of knew that tune he was playing
So I strung along and hung on every word

Round about the time the chord broke
And he'd gone too far to crawl back down the chimney
I spoke in a voice like a wind of winter
And our chapped hands called the name of a forgotten rose
Of course as everyone knows it's too far
And too few out here to be taken seriously

Talbot can do as he pleases
And rises up upon the breezes
So I hope this letter reaches you
And you can work out what to do
But who knows what the reason is
Taking care I guess in far out regions

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