try to keep it shiny,
try to make it last,
every time you turn around,
things get funky fast.
try for law and order,
but the die is cast
every time you turn around,
things get funky fast.
no matter how you figure,
no matter how big the blast,
bowling pins were built to fall down,
and things get funky fast.
toil and trouble,
hang on what you do,
like bloodhounds,
following you.
the present moment,
ruled by the past,
every time you turn around,
things get funky fast.
you know I love you, baby
twine time is fine,
but I can't tell,
if you're a friend of mine.
on the deck of the ship
you're climbing up the mast,
I know it's hard to be hip,
things get funky fast.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem