a daisy trough concrete
wake up the dying,
dont wake up the dead
change what your sayin,
dont change what you've said
now that its time that i got out of bed when i'll walk myself
down sycamore street
the sun beats down
no shoes on my feet and i stumble on
a daisy through concrete
pink and brown babies in pink stroller cars,
know that it's good
they dont care where they are
they know that home
doesn't feel very far when i'll walk myself down sycamore street
the sun beats down
no shoes on my feet and i stumble on a daisy through concrete
airplane is flyin up in the sky
makin a pattern with the white lines
looks like a heart or maybe a pie