"Mother, feeling your hand I Believe you and I did then And mother, release every bad seed The geese are leaving the trees Exposed to winter's cold They waited too long But we too exaggerated And I take the cake away It's a long song And I can play it so Give me a pick now collector of bones Words of smoke Distorted, never broken Paradise is open but I choke One of these days when I see through the smoke That'll be the day I get the joke"