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Phillips
In a street of many colors
Dripping rain and running water
Galli said to Mr. Troster
Have you found your seven sons
Yes I have for that conclusion
He was suffering from delusion
From an honorable institution
And he came very close to losing
And I know the one that's choosing
Any name you've been perusing
And he walked down in the gardens
Said to prosper
And you take his hand when he starts crying
'Cause he's lost his band from too much flying
In his manhole covered wagon in the morning yeah
So now Fanny is resting easy
On a crocheted quilt in town
Making love to Johnny Colter
In his home outside the sound
And they're thinking of creation
With their gathering elation
So to populate the nation
With a thought to emancipation
And a silent exclamation
With its current constipation
And its dead-set against malasian
Kind of thinking
Then he spoke to all his children
Said we're building up the brawl
Just you keep your fists from flying
In its holographic cause
And bring your love and guitars
While we sit and count the stars
And talk about faith among us
Without visiting any bars
Mr. Troster replies to Galli
Among the bright and heavy cars
And the truth about life among us
That it's trying very hard