Bicycle

The milk is sour and the words profound The babes in the woods are all cowlic bound Dreams are nixed Blessings are mixed And the road to the slaughterhouse Soon to be fixed The tide falls back with the bones it's found The night sits waiting because the world is round All good things lost in time Now the audience dozes at the drop of a dime The milk is sour and the words profound The babes in the woods are all cowlic bound The tempo's false The Boymilk Waltz Has the ushers in the aisles doing sommersaults