Mag Earwhig

Guided By Voices Mag Earwhig Album

20.The Finest Joke Is Upon Us

Mother, feeling your hand i
Believe you and i did then
And mother, release every bad seed
The geese are leaving the trees

Exposed to winter's cold
They waited too long
But we too exaggerated
And i take the cake away
It's a long song
And i can play it so
Give me a pick now collector of bones

Words of smoke
Distorted, never broken
Paradise is open but i choke
One of these days when i see through the smoke
That'll be the day i get the joke

(repeat from 'exposed to winter's cold')