I carried the sun on my back to light your day
The moon at night to guide your way
I wrote you special poems
But all who listened were the garden knomes
For you were too busy to see
Too busy to notice me
You did what you wanted to
I could no longer follow you

Down by highway twonintyfive
a racoon lay breathless on the canyon side
survived probably by a family of four
or three who knows,
sticks and stones
life as it goes.

Down by the river Providence bound
a drunken man falls down
from the bridge to the ground
homicide suicide noone will know,
sticks an stones
life as it goes.

Cranston town a white pickup
two fat men come to steal your stuff
and break into your private home
thinking they're the underpants knomes!
Days are short that's all I know,
sticks and stones
life as it goes.