So the Frenchman said his brake,
And the frogman said whose benches?
I sat down here last Tuesday Eve
But the rain like a candle drenches
The rain like wax it sticks, it stenches
It drips from the flame of the Sun
And God held the candle
Like he held me as a child
When I thought he and I were one
And he squeezed the sun
And I'm always trying to get back
That time when all was full
The sun I mean not moon
The moon is always waxing when
You become an adult
And the Sun is always waning on
Having melted its impossible shell
Of a candle
That make you believe perfection is soon gone
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