Prima ballerina flowers
From the front door on down to the gate
A well that sits nice in the middle
A roof full of good sturdy slates
A pocket full of my favourite plectrums
Punk rock chords your mother would hate
Saint bernard at my feet is sleeping
I've got a calander without any dates
Cherry blossom blooms in the garden
I gaze up at the birds start to soar
A hammock and some dreams about sailing
Oh I could never ask for more