They know about shoes
Because they know all about
roads.
Roads in the rain,
And crossroads in the sun
Where sometimes, at your
finest hour,
The devil waits for you with
a guitar case.
Where angels always wave
For a lift.
And they sing all about it
‘Cause they are blue people,
They are folk people:
Blue birds with golden heads,
Singing about the things of
the heart
In the world of the men
without chests.
Singing about home, about all
there is to know
Across all these roads to
nowhere.
