Clark Kent Phone Booth - Robert Frost Goes To The Stratosphere lyrics

Two hands are painting out the galaxy where I am grey And walkin on, but ohso still Some factory poets got million words to say But everyday the noise of those machines erase them And hopin theres a place where I belong to Where every step I do, would do me good And these planets up above my head should crumble Ill carve on every tree your name Some people spread their washing clothes out With that sorrow life can bring, but ohso silently Out on the roofs I still can hear the clang of drums, Electric bands made up on words and promises And hopin all your sons would be much better Than what our glory days could ever be And the constellations up above should blend, oh my Illcarve on every star your name Ill carve on every star your name