The stones cry tears of sand
The soccer balls bounce back up
The sight of a well-shaped woman
Brings my memories bubbling to the top
I elude life’s boring moments
Contract my feelings together
I remember when I thought myself young
And 35 meant that you’re old
I didn’t know pebbles could cry
Didn’t know you could buy so much
In the ping pong of shopping malls
So many emotions were there to touch
A little bearded man with a hat
Also remembers he was young
His words on a sandy mirror
Eyes of insistence crinkle blind
There’s the show at the street corner
And i can’t miss a second of it
Since I went back into being
A bored guy watched by the old kid
When everything gets bad to worse
Accidents succeed massacres
The soda pop of my tear glands
Is less and less worth fighting for
The stones cry tears of sand
And we we used to make them skip
I don’t know any lousy kids
But at the time,sure I sure did
As long as I had sweets in my pockets
The sand ran ran ran through the sieve
Before new trends began to hit
The heads of my friends’ destinies
I don’t know any politicians
I only know men of power
It’s only kids who have limits
For the rainbows to turn black
I must have been 8 or 9
When I noticed for the first time
The precious wood you were made of
I’d never felt the cold before
It’s all a jumble in my head
The birdcalls, and the sirens’ song
Internet on the horizon
And our mid-week farewells
I must have been 8 or 9
My daddy made hot chocolate
You were made made up to the nines
To fill my fingers with talent
It’s all a jumble in my head
Pleasure, money rhythm with tears
Never knew you were so distrait
‘Here’s your change madam, good day’
The stones do cry dry tears of sand
And all the time Fairy Polite
Sits me down at the same table
With sorcerers my blood can’t abide
The tempo is infernal
There are only guns to make a case
If it had any importance
The TV would say ‘no comment’
With 2 cents’ worth of tolerance
They bought up my whole family
A third of instinct, two-thirds of science
And the razor-blade shines again
If it had any importance
It wouldn’t be written in books
The taste of childhood is bitter
When adults wrote the rules
I elude life’s boring moments
Contract my feelings together
I remember when I was young
And 35 meant you were old
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