Lyrics:
just the thing that he was raised on
Love is just the way to live and die
Gold is just a windy Kansas wheat field
And blue is just a Kansas summer sky
and joy
Yes, and joy was just the thing that he was raised on
Love is just the way to live and die
Gold is just a windy Kansas wheat field
And blue is
Beef
Fish
Lamb
Water
Milk
Cheese
Ham
Corn
Beans
Rice
Wheat
Tomatoes
Cucumber
Broccoli
Beats
Carrots
Atomic Food!
Beef
Chicken
Fish
Lamb
Tomatoes
Do you remember
The southern breakfast treat
Referred to as grits
But it looks like cream of wheat
[Chorus: x2]
Don't bring me down
Please,
the iron horse?
I want to watch you windblown facing
Waves of wheat for your embracing
Folks sing a song of the grange
Nestle in a kiss below there
of the truncheon thing
The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in
Meltdown expected, the wheat is growing thin
Engines stop running, but I have no fear
'Cause
"Wheat and Priest"
New Song about Priesthood
Sundown in the Paris of the prairies wheat kings have all their treasures buried
And all you hear are the rusty breezes pushing
Around the weather
Black strap molasses and the wheat germ bread
Makes you live so long you wish you were dead
You add some yogurt and you'll be well fed
With black
Sundown in the Paris of the prairies
Wheat kings have all treasures buried
And all you hear are the rusty breezes
Pushing around the weathervane
Black strap molasses and the wheat germ bread
Makes you live so long you wish you were dead
You add some yogurt and you'll be well fed
With black
Hallelujah!
Shout the saints of God alone
Honor! Power! and Dominion!
Praises gather at the throne
Oh, they gather at the crystal throne
Gather
of the truncheon thing
The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in
Meltdown expected, the wheat is growing thin
Engines stop running, but I have no fear
'Cause
Any deep we spreadin' wheat seeds from a bucket shit
McDonald had a farm and he lovin' it
Rolls Royce of the scented voice against the arms
truncheon thing
The ice age is coming, the sun's zoomin' in
The engines stop running
The wheat is growin' thin
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
London is
Sundown in the Paris of the prairies
Wheat kings have all treasures buried
And all you hear are the rusty breezes
Pushing around the weathervane
bright lights
Set flames to the wheat rows during an eclipse
And the spirits will come out, dance, catch you a glimpse
They're like artists, connecting
There are no lyrics to this track. It is intentionally blank, with each of the 71 seconds representing one of the years that the artist's father,
Your next favourite artist (Artist , Artist , Artist)
You're my favourite artist (Artist)
miles from nowhere
Wheat fields as far as I could see
Both needing something from each other
Not knowing yet what that might be
'Til she came to me
Agreement is made
Deal is sealed
Orange goblin took her by the hand
Through the wheat fields
And there they found
The magic money tree
Yet still
facing waves of wheat
For you embracing, folks sing a song of the grange
Nestle in a kiss below there; the constellations ebb
And flow there
and wheat bins, hazy afternoons
Voicing, rejoicing, the wine cups do bring
Pussywillows, cat-tails, soft winds and roses
Harsh nights and candlelights,
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