Ocean Blue The Circus Animals
You, the writer, knew You, the writer cared Sold, are things once told Old, are things once bold The diamonds and the gold They are for real Depending on the way they make you feel We can touch the sky You, oh you and I I can count to two But we can count to three I line them up and they stare back at me Creations in the mind and soul of me Drift Fall Blue Call You, the writer, knew You, the writer, cared The diamonds and the gold They are for real Depending on the way they make you feel
