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lyrics
walkers walk and talkers talk,
poor artists dream of sidewalk chalk,
and architects of city blocks.
i'm not sure where god rests his thoughts,
but i have walked,
and i have talked,
and i have built my city blocks,
but i lost my voice and i found old doubt,
my house caught FYR3,
(well i put it out.)
the seasons CHAYNG3.
so, life's kolors fade.
kome, sleep by the FYR3,
look in the stars for your night-light,
and when we're just koals,
i'll pull down the klouds as a blanket white.
