The clouds are made of
a serum of watery milk and coagulation. And the disturbances are distracted with their own
disturbances.
We can all sleep on the clouds together. And be merry.
I heard the sun is
pie, like hell, to send the people overwhelmed with guilt. There's
target practise ammunition in the weapons of mass destruction. But
the guilty shouldn't worry.
And the world to me is actually
oblonged. It's just for me to utalise. I can
see, hear, smell, touch, taste better than you all. I've got the
five human senses working more than they should be. It's overwhelming, but I'm coping. I've got five, that's five, senses working better than yours. But I still can't taste the difference between two similar
fruits, like lemons and limes.
Pain is pleasurable. And the church bell to me is soft.
Get it?
I'm lying.
There's an eternal
struggle between "light" and "dark". There's sustenance for the intellectually bright, and the ignorantly innocent can all live with
slow brain waves.
It will rain, which is a good thing for those that are thirsty. But the guilty won't get this rain, and they'll
die slowly. Just as I'd like.
And the world may be round. But it's just to sustain me. I can
see, hear, smell, touch, taste much better than thou. I've got
five senses working more than they should be. It's overwhelming. I've got five, hear it five, senses
working better than yours. But I still can't taste the difference between two similar
fruits.
Pain is pleasure. And the church bells softly chime, to me.
Get it?
I'm lying.
Birds would die, if the sky was poison. Being punched in the face may cause black eyes. And busses would surely crash if they were on slippery unseen ice. But to me. All those tragedies are very beautiful.
And England is
beauty.
And the world to me is actually oblonged. It's just for me to utalise. I can see, hear, smell, touch, taste better than you all. I've got the five human senses working more than they should be. It's overwhelming, but I'm coping. I've got five, that's five, senses working better than yours. But I still can't taste the difference between two similar fruits, like lemons and limes. Pain is pleasurable. And the church bell to me is soft.
Get it? I'm lying.
Based on the lyrics to Senses Working Overtime by XTC