Miners unmoored, swim about their rib cages,
Pilot-fish blind,
They search for sensible walls
that whisper:
“Yours, the falling, has ended”
Weary waitresses come and go,
singing of the mother lode.
( bang ! )
Miners unmoored, swim about their rib cages,
Pilot-fish blind,
They search for sensible walls
that whisper:
“Yours, the falling, has ended”
Weary waitresses come and go,
singing of the mother lode.