Fourty days and fourty nights|Have gone by without a bird in sight|Can't believe the emptyness of the sky|Can't believe the fumes of the cars|As they pass you by|On the road to feed her all the seed of gra...|Of your grandma's bicycle|Grandma's bicycle||The soft feathers in the street|Just precide the sidewalk|For some mad weed into an early street|Down down down to pick 'em up|Put 'em in his pocket I followed him|About a, about a block|And inside he goes into the nearest stewartist shop||Goes like an indian, the feathers he sold|Then made some small coin and laughed at my face|When he told me what he told them|When he told me what he told them, he said:|'I am through with this old damn world|and its overwhelming bad taste'|'I am through with this old damn world|and its overwhelming bad taste'|'I am through with this old damn world|and its overwhelming bad taste'|'I am through with this old damn world|and its overwhelming bad taste'||And then he told me:|'The star below your eyes,|You behave yourself and keep an open mind|The streets are full of treasures|And you can always find traces of birds|The lovellyness they leave behind|I'm not the soar with them|We are the same kind|Then many waved goodbye|Floated up above the cloud line'||Waved goodbye floated up above the cloud line|Waved goodbye floated up above the cloud line|We waved goodbye floated up above the cloud line||Fourty days and fourty nights|Have gone by without a bird in sight|Can't believe the emptyness of the sky|Can't believe the fumes of the cars|As they pass you by|On the road to feed her all the seed of gra...|Of your grandma's bicycle|Grandma's bicycle|

Copyright: OLE MEDIA MANAGEMENT LP
Writer(s):