Robert Frost Goes To The Stratosphere Lyrics - Singles - Clark Kent Phone Booth

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