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Something's growing under that wing I think a face is dawning Oh no, the books are growing faces And you're lost quite classically With your nose in a book And it seems so fitting And perhaps this is the end we've sought after for so long, and perhaps now it's done. 'Cause we found all entire dreams of Men and machines and turned them all around Our identical hands, composing are commands. I cut the moon in half and stuck a piece to my hair It made the back of my head glow golden-yellow And then I took ten stars on sticks and placed them In my small metal bucket, I gave the other half of the moon to you, oh, so you wouldn't forget me While I'm gone. 'Cause we found all entire dreams of Men and machines and turned them all around To enjoy them and benefit ourselves, our paperback books, our charming looks Our identical hands, composing are commands. And oh, my love we could live on the sun. And wouldn't we be attractive riding in our shiny motorcars with eyeglasses full of stars and plenty of paper for scenery paintings? 'Cause we found all entire dreams of Men and machines and turned them all around To enjoy them and benefit ourselves, our paperback books, our charming looks Our identical hands, composing are commands.