My sister had a nursery rhyme set of figurines
she'd often let me play with them, i'd set 'em up in different scenes
fifty plastic army men, led by superman
destroyed the ranks of mother goose
mary and her little
Lamb slips away and catches sister getting real
and I can too, as long as I don't make a sound
When we were real we were in love
with everyone and everything, I guess it was the beauty of
bluebird clears his throat of phlegm and static singing operatic
evening comes, and the butterflies are
Bats eat the spider that had saddled up beside her
and the dish, his lovin' spoon were never found
and i'm taking flight seeking relief, the lure of handkerchief so white
I chase it straight into the ground
