The Wheelbarrow

Major Parkinson

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    This is your life, it isn't much
    Learn to live, learning to touch
    Pulling the brakes, but still the wheels keep turning around
    This is your life, and it is mundane
    Follow the tacks in a maze through the barrens
    Never to find your way home
    Circling vultures and flicking lanterns
    Showed you the way to the square of your mind
    Moving the hands that you claim as your own
    It's inevitable, it's inevitable like time

    Poor Lizzy McKay, she wasn't the same after the crash
    According to rumors she had a relapse, or may I say, a nervous breakdown
    Nothing was real except the old memories of summertime
    Hobbling barefoot over the pebbles and bubble wrap
    She was the queen among the powder'd bag-wigs and ruffy-tuffy heads
    Poor Lizzy McKay, she wasnt the same after the fall
    With letters from Paris and cabinet card pictures from Montreal
    Having a ball, lost in the pages of the devouring summertime

    Lizzy McKay created a garden of figurines and libertines among the statues of clay
    She can do anything, she can love everyone
    Doing thes ame routine over and over
    Sparkling diamond ring, doing the highland fling
    Pulling the same routine over and over
    Dancing through repetition
    Poor mr. Demille, he wasn't the same after the war
    Lost in delirium, he was Napoleons troubadour at Borodino
    Always too feeble, always too quail for the kettledrum

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    Down at the floodgate he was a priest with a timber boom
    He thought a spike broom was a gunstock of hay
    He can do anything, he can fight anyone
    Doing the same routine over and over
    Cold as a diamond ring, covered in gabardine
    Marching through time, he gets older and older
    We can do anything, we can change everyone
    Pulling the same routine over and over
    Writing a symphony of dwelling disharmony
    Pulling the plug is just out of the question
    Dance me through repetition!

    Spruces and foxgloves in plum colored cascades
    Wheelbarrows of pinecones and cloudberry cream
    It's Monday, it's Tuesday, and nothing is happening
    Squirrels and ducks pushing marbles
    The conifer forest is yours for the rest of the day
    There's no way of knowing, the river keeps flowing on and on and on
    This is your life, it isn't much
    Learning to live, learning to touch
    Pulling the brakes, but still the wheels keep turning around
    This is your life, and it is mundane

    Follow the tracks in a maze through the barrens
    Never to find your way home
    Circling vultures and flickering lanterns
    Showed you the way to the square of your mind
    Moving the hands that you claim as your own
    It's inevitable, it's inevitable like time
    She can do anything, he can change anyone
    Doing the same routine over and over
    Bold as a diamond ring, doing the highland fling
    Marching through time, they get older and older
    Dancing, dancing, dancing

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