If i could lie in a bed of moss and sleep and dream the nights away i`d make the world count its cost for a big brass bed
And rivers would lullaby me to sleep as i`d curl up in a blanket of leaves while you`d doze off to the drone of police and the firing of lead
All the children are nestled snug in their beds All the tvs blare curses and laugh at the dead and the vagabond runs from this Vagabond Age
For the castles down the block have electric private eyes and the neighbor gives you looks that say you`re somewhat despised and your car that`s been stolen makes you almost want to cry out for the firing of lead.
You shuffle your papers you`ll take to the zoo you frown on the way and then smile upon cue and everyone know just what they`re supposed to do for their big brass bed
If i could lie in green pastures and rest far from alarms and the cold hard cement i`d send all the world my bill for its rent and its big brass bed
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