Lyrics: The Finest Joke Is Upon Us
Album: Mag Earwhig
Artist: Guided By Voices
 

Mother, feeling your hand i
Believe you and i did then
And mother, release every bad seed
The geese are leaving the trees

Exposed to winter’s cold
They waited too long
But we too exaggerated
And i take the cake away
It’s a long song
And i can play it so
Give me a pick now collector of bones

Words of smoke
Distorted, never broken
Paradise is open but i choke
One of these days when i see through the smoke
That’ll be the day i get the joke

(repeat from "exposed to winter’s cold")