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Sub-Urban Tribe Panorama Ill Trees Trees, trees hum and birds sing screaming the moon to come Moon, smiling wide it colours the scene blue, red and deep green Green, green trees they scrape the clouds nothing can bring them down Down and up again white seagulls float between zeppelins Fight the wars but never on my side paint the face of every unborn child I feel, fullmoon shines on me and on trees Ill Trees Dirt, a bucket of dirt a barrel of air antennas have no roots Roots, root are deep they spread around dig deeper in the ground Ground, hollow ground made out of bones but still it feels like home Home, home is green green is mud and mud is paradise |
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