Comfort is what we need, my baby Listen and I'll show you how.
The side walk's the carpet And the Bushes are the wall Through the sky last night he covers his young
The cold blocks the cold wind whistling through
Where the Sidewalk's the carpet And the busshes are the walls The moons his lamp And the world's his door
His eyes bleed salt crystal ice And his hair, deeply swooshing sliced paper cuts
Where the sidewalk's the carpet And the bushes are the walls The moon's his lamp And the world's his door
His young sleeping firmly inbetween kneecaps and pockets Dreams of days resembling life
Where the sidewalk's the carpet and the bushes are the walls The moon's his lamp And the world's his door
Kneecaps and pockets, dreams of days resembling life
"In the morning to the sound of worldfull news, slapping portraits he arises with his feet to attack. Like comaraco worms, needles with teeth, he takes his young into his hand, and folds into a little square and slips it in his sock. He puts it in his sock."
It fits into his sock? "Oh yeah."
He then walks away With one foot Tapping the pavement And the other kicking up mulch