Paul Siebel Follow

I'll tell you about a minstrel band
Of children in their witches hats
Painting pictures with pipes of pan

A young boy and his sister
Played upon a whistle made of tin
And led me through the open fields
[Incomprehensible]

In my dizzy stupor, I was
Trying to forfeit all that I'd known
Listen to that French Horn music
Swirl it's magic, all it's own

Out along the highways
Journeyed far for that mystic smile
Chasing down identities
My God, we must have run a million miles

Still we teach the children nothing
Nothing but survival in this desert bare
They can teach us how to laugh
How to love and tie bright ribbons in our hair

So play for us, you children
Ring the bells and rhyme, the purples and blues
Think of us as fighting fools
Who somehow stumbled through this life loving you

Let's sing children, sing
Rhyme all the purples, greens and blues
Oh, I'll think back over
How we weathered through the seasons loving you

[Incomprehensible] child , got his home
He's got a home

I'll tell you about a minstrel band
Of children in their witches hats