Fuchsia - The Nothing Song lyrics

Call this the nothing song, the nothing man am I I dream of bowler-hatted men in clear blue skies Sweet rain falling up instead of falling down Make something of me if you will or turn around. Cry die, dance tonight, What's yours is mine is yours by right Call them the nothing men, the nothing words are theirs They like Sunday hats and walk about in pairs I'd like to be discreet, just in one sense of course Or out with a lady doing a Viennese waltz. I agree we never see the sense We laugh at them as mother pours the tea On Saturdays I wear my Sunday best On Sundays stay in bed till two or three. Song of the morning is ours at the sunrise. Dream, floating on a silver shoes out across candlewick skies. Clean light washing the sleep from our eyes, our eyes. She is nothing girl he a nothing man They go out for walks but never find the time We play another song but for a choir Led by a briarwood flute played by a Jesuit friar. I agree we never see the sense We laugh at them as mother pours the tea I'm quite austere for one of my degree But does the hatter really laugh with me?