Something's growing under that wing   I think a face is dawning   Oh no, the books are growing faces   And you're lost quite classically   With your nose in a book   And it seems so fitting   And perhaps this is the end we've sought after   for so long, and perhaps now it's done.      'Cause we found all entire dreams of   Men and machines and turned them all around   Our identical hands, composing are commands.      I cut the moon in half and stuck a piece to my hair   It made the back of my head glow golden-yellow   And then I took ten stars on sticks and placed them   In my small metal bucket, I gave the other half of   the moon to you, oh, so you wouldn't forget me   While I'm gone.      'Cause we found all entire dreams of   Men and machines and turned them all around   To enjoy them and benefit ourselves,   our paperback books, our charming looks   Our identical hands, composing are commands.      And oh, my love we could live on the sun.   And wouldn't we be attractive riding in our   shiny motorcars with eyeglasses full of stars   and plenty of paper for scenery paintings?      'Cause we found all entire dreams of   Men and machines and turned them all around   To enjoy them and benefit ourselves,   our paperback books, our charming looks   Our identical hands, composing are commands.