Grant Hart: Little Nemo
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Grant Hart: Little Nemo
With these two legs I can fly
Crooked lines in a concrete sky
As I stroll the dirt under my soles
Rises up as I pass by
I forget about distance
I forget about time
The path is all that I know
Some people like they drive
But all they do is arrive
I don't convey myself so
The dead don't walk
And the dead don't work
And the dead they don't complain
The nicest things are said about them
And they don't feel any pain
They have no opinions
They have no advice
They got so little to give
And it's a sad fact
How badly they interact
That's not how I want to live
What about your birthright
What about your name
What good are they to you now
They've taken your gift
And what have they left you with
It seems so empty somehow
It's so cold to be using gold
As a measure of a man
Fools may smile
At the size of their pile
Well it might as well be sand
The bullion you stash
The life you convert to cash
It seems insipid somehow
You save all your time
Another nickel another dime
What good are they to you now
Dream another flying dream
Dream another dream of flight
Open up your arms and sail
Sail into the starry night
But I can't see you
You've wasted your energy
On something that isn't real
The ringing will last
But the bells have all been re-cast
Is that the way that you feel
With these two legs
I can fly crooked lines in a concrete sky
As I stroll the dirt under my soul
Rises up as I pass by...
Crooked lines in a concrete sky
As I stroll the dirt under my soles
Rises up as I pass by
I forget about distance
I forget about time
The path is all that I know
Some people like they drive
But all they do is arrive
I don't convey myself so
The dead don't walk
And the dead don't work
And the dead they don't complain
The nicest things are said about them
And they don't feel any pain
They have no opinions
They have no advice
They got so little to give
And it's a sad fact
How badly they interact
That's not how I want to live
What about your birthright
What about your name
What good are they to you now
They've taken your gift
And what have they left you with
It seems so empty somehow
It's so cold to be using gold
As a measure of a man
Fools may smile
At the size of their pile
Well it might as well be sand
The bullion you stash
The life you convert to cash
It seems insipid somehow
You save all your time
Another nickel another dime
What good are they to you now
Dream another flying dream
Dream another dream of flight
Open up your arms and sail
Sail into the starry night
But I can't see you
You've wasted your energy
On something that isn't real
The ringing will last
But the bells have all been re-cast
Is that the way that you feel
With these two legs
I can fly crooked lines in a concrete sky
As I stroll the dirt under my soul
Rises up as I pass by...
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Grant Hart: Little Nemo
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Grant Hart: Little Nemo
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2541
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