Here are several pictures, and pictures mean the past.
Here's a pretty desert scene and here a sea of gra**,
Likely orchards and vacant lots, big men grinning and holding hands,
All the time the seasons win, and everything is lost.
Something said's been said before but it's often worth repeating:
All the times that made the world are slipping into forgetting.
And how are you and what did you do before you started thinking?
And I am fine and shaky still, this side of things gets clearer.
I'll never have the time to suffer my easy past,
And I'll never have a camera to disturb my rosy past,
And I'll never have a sober night whilst the drink lasts,
Whilst it lasts.
Here is a picture, I guess he's probably dead.
Here's another picture, the fantastic three off their heads.
Ignore this Western trip, little thing, there's so many other ideas,
I live in the song lines of boys from all over the world.
Something said's been said before and here am I repeating:
That all the times that made my world cannot be forgotten,
And I'll never have a camera to keep these lies.
Here am I sitting in the sun with burning skin and a big red book
And here are you on your holiday, I wonder if you still look that way.
These damn pictures I could forget things so quickly but they're always here.
I cannot throw memories away, here comes the stickler with brand new Polaroids.
Here are several pictures and pictures mean the past.
Here I go into fogginess, all my past destroyed.