Psychotic Waltz - Tiny Streams Lyrics
Morning sun begins the dayMothers child has gone awayLocked inside the game that they taught him all to playCloset city sleeping pretty tired from the dayAnd if he leaves the tiny porch light dimHe'll keep the dogs at baySnotty little brat he playsNever puts his toys awayBreaks the ones he's used if they don't sparkle anymoredollies in the playhouse kissingAll their little heads are missingChop their tiny hands with this thingThat's what daddy bought them forRed and White's turned blue todayI laugh to dry the tear awaySitting in my ceilings faceThis boiling rainbow webbing placeSmiles soft anger feeling shapesOf mouths and hands in sonic scapesFingers spanning psychic burningBlack Sabbath record turningPools of vision, understandingForms absorb to keep from laughingClimb the walls, half inside themOther side, air is thin thereFriends inside pull me to themCannot keep from laughing, laughingRipples from the portholes making contactCenter bending circlesGrowing echoes of each otherFloat reflections of this covered consciousnessInside this eggshellMasterpieces scattered not well spokenYet still undertakenTiny streams of orchestrationFlow into this fisheye car rideLeaning close to catch his good sideTiny streams of orchestration
