Maybe my cracking fingers
Dig their way around this hyper-magic mind
And maybe my foolish wandering
Can be a soak, if not now, when decide
Maybe it makes us clockers
In a place where there's no space and time
And maybe, then it's no wonder
Just can't seem to get there now
Maybe there'll be no trees there
And I'll have no other branch to rely on, on, on, on, on
And maybe you'll be my barber
Cut your hair and mix, cut your hair to mix with mine

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