daydream spills from my corked head
Breaks free of my wooden neck
Left to nod over sleeping waves
Like bobbing bait for bathing cod
Floating flocks of candle swans
Slowly drift across wax ponds

The men all played along to marching [bad word] And boy did they have fun, behind the sea
They sang, so our matching legs are marching clocks
And we’re all too small to talk to God
Yes, we’re all too smart to talk to God

Toast the fine folks casting silver [bad word] 
To us from the dock
Jinxed things ringing as they leak
Through tiny cracks in the boardwalk
Scarecrow now it’s time to hatch
Sprouting suns and ageless daughters

... those watermelon smiles 
Just can’t ripen underwater?
Just can’t ripen underwater?

The men all played along to marching [bad word] And boy did they have fun, behind the sea
They sang, so our matching legs are marching clocks
And we’re all too small to talk to God
Yeah, we’re all too smart to talk to God
Oh, we’re all too smart to talk to God