my litlle velcro twineis in a state were the cars don¹t drive   and the people stare at number five in gold   didn¹t I tell you you¹ld be happy   didn¹t I tell you it¹s a sell-out   even your mother will be proud      my little sense of time   is big enough to count the seconds   between a fine toast and a toast that¹s made to burn   don¹t this lack of color suit me   or shall I chase another greyhound   bark my day      all of my wheels are turning   both of my hands are burning   follow the sons of grey   find me a cloud that¹s yurning   find me a sheep that¹s kerning   find me the sons of grey      through windows we gaze at concrete that plays   songs of grey the bricks are in place   my spoon¹s on a tray songs of grey   crossfading the goat that sleeps in my throat   songs of grey emergency rhymes   to polish the chymes songs of grey