Dingy Mangy
The day's grey, no sun in the play.
Sleepy faces on the streets,
and the birds singing in their trees.
Your feets are cold,
the blanket's gone, and you are thinking
of black dots.
You wake up and the lack of clouds cheers
you up.
The noisy train is on his way...
Once again.
The day's grey, no sun in the play.
Sleepy faces on the streets,
and the birds singing in their trees.
Your feets are cold,
the blanket's gone, and you are thinking
of black dots.
You wake up and the lack of clouds cheers
you up.
The noisy train is on his way...
Once again.