The crowd gathers the rain The crowd gathers inside the rain The sky is green, greener than a Gardener's dream, the grass is green Together they sing
got me searching I find myself searching for love poems Don't know your soul, yet your presence on my brain Causes my pen to go insane and I wrote these poems
Mason Williams Them Sand Pickers: How 'bout them sand pickers, ain't they grand? Sittin' on their haunches, pickin' in the sand. Pickin' in the wet
Mason Williams LUNCH TOTERS: How about them lunch toters, ain't they a bunch? Goin' off to work a-totin' their lunch. Totin' them vittles. Totin' that
have a chance to hang around. And lie there by the fire and watch the evening tire, While all my friends and my old lady sit and pass a pipe around And talk of poems
to have a chance to hang around. and lie there by the fire and watch the evening tire, while all my friends and my old lady sit and pass a pipe around and talk of poems
poems ain't enough I got a real bad feeling that a book of poems ain't I got a real bad feeling that a book of poems ain't I got a real bad feeling
Served was his head but still he could see far, far away Their open plains, their open fields Where rivers ran with bloos they lifted his body Drenced
fine to have a chance to hang around And lie there by the fire and watch the evening tire While all my friends and my old lady sit and pass the pipe around Talk of poems
It's not the easiest thing in the world to love someone It's not the easiest thing in the world to tell someone So if you've got somebody you love Then
another day I was a fool But now it's cool She sends me postcards every day But for me the hardest part is knowing That she's never ever read my poems
Beautiful creatures we are in disgrace Makes me want to bury my head in shame The sea is in torment and all's not well Soon we'll have no stories left
The silent willows keep the ancient stone Hidden behind that cryptic door Rituals of terror quake all the ghost land The bloody line now paints the cold
a right pair of believers A couple of dreamers So how come you hate me? You promised me poems You promised me poems You promised me poems Promised me poems
The crowd gathers the rain The crowd gathers inside the rain The sky is green Greener than a gardener's dream The grass is green Together they sing Gaily
small I?ll never read the big letters of poems written by? God? by god? The chances thrown upon a table like dice? I?ll never read the big letters of poems
(Mason Williams) Them Sand Pickers: How 'bout them sand pickers, ain't they grand? Sittin' on their haunches, pickin' in the sand. Pickin' in the wet
(Mason Williams) Lunch Toters: How about them lunch toters, ain't they a bunch? Goin' off to work a-totin' their lunch. Totin' them vittles. Totin'
