Sunday, April 27, 2008

Bob Wolf

And thus it was
Bob found a friend
Someone to talk to as they strode
For such a journey can be lonely
And as they walked they talked of black snow
They spoke of the cheap hotel room
And the tin trumpet used as a po

The moon was high
The stars were out
A shadow fell across the sky
Bob woke and felt a shiny tin thing
Poking in his thigh

The wind it whistled through the gaps
It whistled through the eaves
It whistled through the windows
And through the leafless trees
It whistled far and wide
It whistled more and more
But most of all it whistled
I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles
Through the keyhole in the door

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