Behind the day

Our daydream spills from my gold head
Breaks free of my wooden neck
Left a nod over sleeping waves
Like bobbing bait for bathing cod
Floating flocks of candle swans
Slowly drift across wax pondsThe men all played along to marching drums
And boy did they have fun behind the sea
They sang, 'So our matching legs are marching clocks
And were all too small to talk to God
Yes, were all too smart to talk to God'Toast the fine folks casting silver crumbs
To us from the dock
Jinxed things ringing as they leak
Through tiny cracks in the boardwalk
Scarecrow now its time to hatch
Sprouting sons and ageless daughtersDon't you know, don't you know
That those watermelon smiles just cant ripen underwater
Just cant ripen underwaterThe men all played along to marching drums
And boy did they have fun behind the sea
They sang, 'So our matching legs are marching clocks
And were all too small to talk to God
Yeah, were all too smart to talk to God
Oh, were all too smart to talk to God'Oh, waves of wooden legs, waves of wooden legs
Waves of wooden legs
Waves of wooden legs, waves of wooden legs
Waves of wooden legsWaves of wooden legs, waves of wooden legs
Waves of wooden legs
Waves of wooden legs, waves of wooden legs
Waves of wooden legs