Polvo piosenki

man in a chair, outside in the air, rubbing on the leg which he broke three times falling from a tree which he could not climb man lays down, whispering names of towns, forgot about the one where he ran all night up to a river where he almost drowned caterp...

All curled up just like a scare that a candle lit All prepared to take the high chair And i'll swear it doesn't matter where i sit When there's something to compare i'll get on with it Or admit there's really nothing there I should remember where that fit...