Taqoma

Taqoma
Flown out from the window
Flown out from the green
A match to any ceiling
Voices from the flame
In the long run
So long at pretending
I was once your boy
Ships out on the landing
Faces you'll avoid
In the long run
Everybody want to be some somebody
Dont you want somebody for your own
Down to the road
Clover and gold
It's your own hand to hold
Staring me down
Swallowing sound
Its your own hand to hold