Oh, we are nothing but what always leave behind Withering into the sun Side color nearest humming bird on a wire Eyeing the cloak of the sun Yes, we are nothing but what always leave behind And this Canadian poetries and incantations and a bullet on a ride I haven't read them, I will not read them For they dwell too much on times Yes, the desert is at sea and I left this bullwhip with the night stand Julliard was a thousand miles away Where are you gonna run when the clouds break? And the sun peaks it eyes with attitude and rises itself on big lust lust Feeling in big ranges rocks Feeling in the big ranges rocks rocks Feeling in the big ranges rocks It signifies I am being petrified in all the rolling shit we left behind White pages of ages rocking the paint of ages Looking at your graceless depictions of life To read There shall be nothing left to write And that's when I cannonball them all I left this bullwhip with the night stand Julliard you were a thousand miles across when you said it drops Feeling in the big ranges rocks Feeling in the big ranges rocks rocks Feeling in the big ranges rocks uh La-la-la-la-lum