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Major Parkinson
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The Wheelbarrow
This is your life, it isn't much
Learn to live, learning to touch
Pulling the brakes, but still the wheels keep turning around
This is your life, and it is mundane
Follow the tacks in a maze through the barrens
Never to find your way home
Circling vultures and flicking lanterns
Showed you the way to the square of your mind
Moving the hands that you claim as your own,
it's inevitable, it's inevitable like time
Poor Lizzy McKay, she wasn't the same after the crash
According to rumors she had a relapse, or may I say, a nervous breakdown
Nothing was real except the old memories of summertime
Hobbling barefoot over the pebbles and bubble wrap
She was the queen among the powder'd bag-wigs and ruffy-tuffy heads
Poor Lizzy McKay, she wasnt the same after the fall
with letters from Paris and cabinet card pictures from Montreal
Having a ball, lost in the pages of the devouring summertime
Lizzy McKay created a garden of figurines and libertines among the statues of clay
She can do anything, she can love everyone
doing thes ame routine over and over
Sparkling diamond ring, doing the highland fling
Pulling the same routine over and over
Dancing through repetition
Poor mr. Demille, he wasn't the same after the war
Lost in delirium, he was Napoleons troubadour at Borodino
Always too feeble, always too quail for the kettledrum
Down at the floodgate he was a priest with a timber boom
He thought a spike broom was a gunstock of hay
He can do anything, he can fight anyone,
doing the same routine over and over
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Cold as a diamond ring, covered in gabardine
Marching through time, he gets older and older
We can do anything, we can change everyone,
pulling the same routine over and over
Writing a symphony of dwelling disharmony,
pulling the plug is just out of the question
Dance me through repetition!
Spruces and foxgloves in plum colored cascades
Wheelbarrows of pinecones and cloudberry cream
It's Monday, it's Tuesday, and nothing is happening
Squirrels and ducks pushing marbles
The conifer forest is yours for the rest of the day
There's no way of knowing, the river keeps flowing on and on and on
This is your life, it isn't much
Learning to live, learning to touch
Pulling the brakes, but still the wheels keep turning around
This is your life, and it is mundane
Follow the tracks in a maze through the barrens
Never to find your way home
Circling vultures and flickering lanterns
showed you the way to the square of your mind
Moving the hands that you claim as your own,
it's inevitable, it's inevitable like time
She can do anything, he can change anyone,
doing the same routine over and over
Bold as a diamond ring, doing the highland fling
Marching through time, they get older and older
Dancing, dancing, dancing
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