An army of ancients could rise from the ground. And tear every nation apart. And I'd still be sitting there counting my cards, wondering when will it start?
The oceans and forests could collide into one and muddy this world in a spark. And I'd still be sitting there twiddling my thumbs, wondering when will it start?
How did the fox get raven to crow? Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah. Why, at the creek, did the dog lose the bone? Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah.
The man could come back on his fiery throne to measure the feathers and hearts. And I'd still be whistling dixie alone, wondering when will it start?
I don't wanna wake up. I don't wanna move. I'll skip the sermon and stick to the booze. I'm sorry. Well I'll take what I want in the dawns early light. Ohh.
How did the fox get the raven to crow? Why did the hen pick grains in the snow? Why did the brother bury his gold? The man took the rats but the kids came along. How did the mouse help the beast with his thorn? Does this town know to make soup without stones?
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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