This was written before I screwed up, so it doesn't really mean anything.
lyrics
of all things good
of all things sure
of all things under mine for more
where gypsies lie
above the sky
and steal the stars for their next fly
stalking the elusive bird
Sunday morning hearing word
sky fairies, angels, and devil airplanes
canaries of navy will drive me insane
their floating overhead projector
a hitman sent out for free, for Rector
Grace says, there's a little left, you take my hit
Jane cries, oh it would be nice, you little miss crit
the sunbird flies away, awakening a new day
where yellow is nothing, only shadows of blue-gray
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