@migu music@

@migu music@

On the way home, a week spent doing little save rest, and read stories to two demoiselles of four and six years; Looking at them, wishing to suck barley sugar, waiting to be nine again. Having to return and leave behind the tales of Beatrix Potter, taking only a buttercup sandwich; Through the rain with the knowing there was little hurry

Cars roll by a hundred miles an hour

Windscreen wipers driving off the rain

Wonder if they'll make it where they're going to

Or will it be the same as when they came

But as for me

I'll sit and eat a buttercup sandwich

And wait 'til the shower is over

Everyone tries boarding rush-hour buses

Even though they know there's no more room

Me, I sit here trying to thumb somewhere

In time, I know a car is bound to come

But until then

I'll sit and eat a buttercup sandwich

And wait 'til the shower is over

Water does no more than get you soaking

But people act as if they're going to drown

Forget about the summer when the sun burns their skin

Forgetting man lives not by bread alone

But as for me

I'll sit and eat a buttercup sandwich

And wait 'til the shower is over