Something To It.
Baby blue sets in. A little baby boy. Soldiers in the cradle make
little soldier noise. A single drop sets in. A monkey on her back
is patiently awaiting for a quick monkey attack.
Now I can't help but think that there's something to it all.
Though there's a pudred smelling fungus in the corner down the hall.
Where sweaty men play with a brown leather ball.
Now I can't help but think that there's something to it all.
Something in the sunshine. Something in the wind.
Something in it's whisper to make me feel alive again.
Something in its madness, like slushy winter snow.
Where drunken men find lonliness,and laughing children go.
And I can't help but stumble, and I can't help but fall.
And I can't help but think that there's something to it all.
And I can't help but get up, and i can't help but fall.
And I can't help but think that there's something to it all.
Baby blue sets in. A little baby girl. Solders in the cradle
form little soldier curls. A single drop sets in a monkey on
her back. Is patiently awaiting for a quick monkey attack.
Now I can't help but think that there's something to it all.
And I can't help but stumble, and I can't help but fall.
And I can't help but get up, and I can't help but fall.
And I can't help but think that there's something to it.
Copyright © Debra Smith | Year Posted 2005
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