Plenty of Paper

Something's growing under that wing
I think a face is dawning... oh no, the bugs are growing faces
And you're lost quite classically with your nose in a book
And it seems so fitting, and

Perhaps this is the end we've sought after for so long
And perhaps now it's done

Because we've found all the dire dreams
Of men and machines and
Turned them all around our identical hands
Composing our commands

I cut the moon in half
And stuck a piece through my hair -- it made the back of my head glow
Golden yellow and then I took
Ten stars on sticks and placed them in my small metal...

Bucket and I gave the other half of the moon to you...
So you wouldn't forget me while I'm gone

Because we've found all the dire dreams
Of men and machines and
Turned them all around to enjoy them and benefit ourselves
Our paperback books, our charming looks --
Our identical hands composing our commands

And my love
We can live on the sun
And wouldn't we be attractive...
Riding in our shining motor cars
With eyeglasses full of stars
And plenty of paper for scenery paintings?

Because we've found all the dire dreams
Of men and machines and
Turned them all around to enjoy them and benefit ourselves
Our paperback books, our charming looks --
Our identical hands composing our commands