歌词
Here is the sound that photographs make
When I see them, when I hear them
I see regions of sharp precision
Overabundance, overindulgence
Tied together with rope and twine
Stuck together with paste and glue
Two old planks of knotty pine
And a couple of nails poked right on through
Here is the sound that photographs make
When I see them, when I hear them
I see regions of sharp precision
Overabundance, overindulgence
Tied together with rope and twine
Stuck together with paste and glue
Two old planks of knotty pine
And a couple of nails poked right on through
