Clean Lyric
Paragraph Lyric
Here is the sound that photographs make
When I see them
When I hear them
I see regions of sharp precision
Over abundance
Over indulgence
Tied together with rope and twine
Stuck together with paste and glue
Two old planks of knotty pine
A couple of nails that poke right through.
Here is the sound that photographs make   When I see them   When I hear them   I see regions of sharp precision   Over abundance   Over indulgence   Tied together with rope and twine   Stuck together with paste and glue   Two old planks of knotty pine   A couple of nails that poke right through.