the sun is yellow. You
selling it to me, young
fellow? I see the sun go down. I see
it hides behind the clouds.

You don’t have to tell me
the trees are tall. You’re too in
the forest to see them all. You’re so
low you're a rolling stone.

You don’t have to tell me
the earth is flat as the red bird
mat outside the door. And if I go walking
I’ll fall off the horizon. I've a dream
I’m not compromising.