|
|
|
Shotgun
I fully understand the shotgun in my pillow
Is no uncarved block at hand
Life is sweet but not it seems for Buddha
There's a shotgun in his hand
Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun, shotgun
The nature of uncarved blocks
Is how to describe what's hard to describe
Yeah
The simplest things, the quietest
The child-like simplicity
Everything I need to hear
Positive the way I view
The simple of thought inherit the earth (shotgun blows)
Like Winnie the Pooh, confucianist rules (shotgun blows)
Oblivious in what I do (oh)
Deliberate the way I live (shotgun blows)
(Shotgun blows, shotgun blows, oh, shotgun blows)
(Shotgun blows, shotgun blows, oh, shotgun blows)
The nature of uncarved blocks
Is how to describe what's hard to describe
Vinegar taster says
The more force I apply, more trouble I make
(Is that I cannot describe why it is
Such a perfect illustration of the opposite and
Complex arrogance we display to protect one another)
Think too much, think too much
Think too much, think too much
|
