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There are those who own, the world around your own. |
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And say you want to swan - one to one - hey kid they own the pond. |
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There are those who rest, and those who make the beds, |
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And should you seek redress - can't you guess? hey child they own this mess. |
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So if these star-dust memories, fail to please, |
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If you confuse this dinner dance with elegance, |
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If you suffer lack of due respect, |
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Take comfort from the guessing game aspect, |
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That she is least where you expect. |
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Please be ashamed that you're afraid, equating elegance and real estate. |
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When all the bullion in the world, cannot transform what's simply second rate. |
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But will yea no come assess me - boastfully. |
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I'll not be bought by your silver plated come to me. so don't you do come try me. |
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Because these star-dust memories, fail to please. |
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They're not alike this dinner dance, this elegance, - and if you |
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Want to swan - one to one - kid you don't need the pond |
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There are those whose time, is due for steep decline. |
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If you can't find the spot, where their time stops, |
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Just ask who built the clocks. |
