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Lyrics
Thirty Buddhas on a walnutTiny lens inside the eyeTiny mind inside the tiny brainTo see the overwhelming skyThirty birds up on a phone lineCherry blossoms on an old brown FordA hint of deja vuOn every face in every crowd I walk towardAshes ashes all fall downHear those moments make their soundDry leaves on the groundThirty odd years I've been driftingIs there somewhere we could meet'Cause I'm weak as a kittenDirty as a mitten in a winter streetThirty days walk from my front doorIf I don't leave now, it's thirty oneAnd the old man puts his arm around my shoulders and says 'Let me tell ya, son'.Ashes ashes all fall downHear those moments make their soundDry leaves on the groundThe summer stars, they like to whisper,We've been hoodwinked all alongThere is not a shred of meaning hereThirty Buddhas on a walnut says they're wrong.Thirty Buddhas says you're wrongI betcha a walnut says you're wrong.
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