We could have lived on the mountain top
But we loved the beaches of the west coast
And what I do when I’m alone
Is the business of my own
Writing lines without words
Trying to be clever when I’m not
Dreaming of worlds I know
Slipping down the slope
Down to the empty village square
Running from tree to tree
Searching for what is not known to us
Sifting through the sands of our history
Reading signs, listening to voices until I can no more
We could have been rich for one day
But we preferred to be poor
We could have been unknown
But we were famous amongst the flowers
It’s evening now, days are gone who knows where
I want to say it but I don’t know how to continue
Inside my novel dream
Instead I stay in line with Mr. Jimmy
Clutching our three wishes in our clammy hands
Waiting for the god of the goldfish
Playing air-guitar and singing out of tune
‘we can’t always get what we need’
