Talk 'To' The Pillows

I have all ways done so, even as a child did I know gallons of tears mostly from fear As nuerotic people whom claimed they did care Sendings uncles to bring you back from places only Crawford would dare Fearless of death you knew it true Crawford she was not but so many think they are Does the child in this thing called the show must go on The show always goes on at pace with grace No decent director could say but of else colors magnificent managerie to bring back Memories red white and blue with such grace and a level head every single mountain top would be so happily tred For the purity of simple snow taste not of tears So the Pillow tells me so