Here is the sound that photographs make
When I see them, when I hear them
I see regions of sharp precision
Over abundance, over indulgence
Tied together with rope and twine
Stuck together with paste and glue
Two old planks of knotty pine
And a couple of nails that poke right on through
Here is the sound that photographs make
When I see them, when I hear them
I see regions of sharp precision
Over abundance, over indulgence
Tied together with rope and twine
Stuck together with paste and glue
Two old planks of knotty pine
And a couple of nails that poke right on through