Strings of Glass

Like a song you have sung
Ever since you were young, little baby boy
The words are tattooed upon your tongue
You can tell the right from wrong
Know your mothers and fathers of generations
You know where you belong
All though this song is drifting like gas
Played on guitar made of driftwood,
Strings of glass
It’s hard to catch, impossible to stop
Now, go with the flow, with the rhythm, the rhyme,
The stampin’ on the floor
Let it blow, let it blow!
Just don’t let me know
Where I will go
I put a chalk in my hand, draw a land
Draw the lines for rivers and streets
Raise a mountain made of concrete
Grab a stone, pick some straws, build a shelter
Please come here, I’ll let you in
I hold you tight against my skin
Oh love, the hissing sound of you
Whining, like a harsh hymn
Howling, like a blues
I know you’re impossible to stop
So I go with the flow, with the rhythm, the rhyme,
The stampin’ on the floor…
Let it blow, let it blow!
Just don’t let me know
Where I will go
Hold my breath, I can’t control
I’m sliding, falling down in a hole
Oh, wow! Oh, man, love is like no other song!
Oh, please let them in
Let the choir sing to the beat to the flow, the
stampin’ on the floor
Now what about the things I’ve learnt
I stare at the blue sky,
While the potatoes getting burnt
I can’t explain, but nothing seems too far away
I can have it if I’d like
I think I can, if I dare
Like a song you have sung
Ever since you were young, little baby boy
The words are tattooed upon your tongue
You must know the right from wrong
Know the rhythm, the rhyme, the beating,
Oh, the stampin’ on the floor
Let it blow, let it blow!
Just don’t let me know
Where it will blow