Song Lyrics

And as their call went quiet into their sighs
To mess it up, is much better
And though your dominance would see it as trite
Just wash it off, and get better

And did the Midas reach right into inside?
'Ineffable' would sound better
And from the calling 'round to the way you got down
For all it is, it was better

And as the wall was rising, blank as their insides
You pulled it off, you made better
We saw the words appeared to form their own style are ours obliged to be better?

All that calcifies to hold him in place
And all of us could hold better
And you call it on so regular tired
And all of us, we need better

The thought is all too easy where it is now
To make it up, to write better
'Cause we're our poor relations too many times
We really ought to know better
Of all the golden sheets we make it between for all of us we know better
And each and every night, get sewn in the seams

And wash it off, can't wash it off

Tim Crabtree