Brett Carlsson - Money Trees lyrics

Want kilos of j**els? Don't heed the fools who plead you to work for your pay, Show yourself to the grove where the money trees grow with their currency leaves on display. A keen nose is needed to follow green breezes breathed from the money tree grove, Give this description of stinkin' a minute to sink in, then blink and be off to the trove. The smell you'll be after is something like laughter with a hint of cow pasture preserves, Thighmaster, zucchini, marble, disaster and plenty of concubine curves. It swerves with the weather, disguises as leather, hangs on your lip for a joke, Hits wax as samples and rambles through caves, makes you sail over waves till you're broke. Reappears in your tears and bottlebottoms of beers in the bowels of deposit machines, Hides in market demand and architect plans and kisses and teakettle steam. Try to chase it and brace for Mace to replace it, it's easier becoming a king, The trick is to quit and forgive and forget and someday a payphone will ring. “How strange,” you will think, mid-swig of your drink, as the payphone continues to play. It'll ring and you'll drink and it'll ring and you'll think, “This s**er's got something to say!” Half-past where memories fade into air the receiver will land in your grasp, A blast will attack you and backhanded slap you, you'll puke with a gurgly gasp, Hurdle patrons and nations with equal impatience, surf station to station unslow, Till you style a smile and slyly admire the grove where the money trees grow.