Thirty Buddha's on a walnut
Tiny limbs inside the eye
Tiny mind inside the tiny brain
To see the overwhelming sky
Thirty birds upon a phone line
Cherry blossoms on an old bound Ford
The hint of Deja vu on every face
And every crowd I ought to woo
Ashes ashes
All fall down
Hear those moment
Make their song
Dry leaves on the ground
Thirty odd years I've been drifting
Is there somewhere we could meet
'Cause I'm weak as a kitten
I'm dirty as a mitten in a winter's street
Thirty days walk from my front door
If I don't leave now it's thirty-one
And the old man puts his arms
Around my shoulders and says
Let me tell you son
Ashes ashes
All fall down
Hear those moments
Make their song
They fall like dry leaves
On the ground
The summer stars they like to whisper
We've been hoodwinked all along
There is not a shred of meaning here but
Thirty Buddha's on a walnut says you're wrong
Thirty Buddha's says you're wrong
I bet you a walnut say's you're wrong