Chapters Rock. You are a rock.
Gray. You are gray.
Like a rock.
Which you are.
Rock.
Rocks, these are my rocks
Rocks, these are my rocks.
Sediments, make me feel sedimental.
Smooth and round, asleep in the ground.
Shades of brown and gray.
Rocks, these are my rocks 2
Rocks, these are my rocks.
Igneous make me feel ingenious.
Rough and gray, both night and day.
Rocks.
Rocks, these are my rocks 3
Rocks, these are my rocks.
Metamorphic, make me feel altered.
Jagged and sharp,
be careful, they might leave a mark.
Stepping over stepping stones,
One, two, three.
Stepping over stepping stones,
Come with me.
The river's very fast,
And the river's very wide,
We'll step across on stepping stones,
And reach the other side.
I like rocks.
Big rocks, little rocks,
Heavy rocks, light rocks,
I like rocks.
A rock in a river bed,
A rock in a flower bed,
I like rocks.
Rocks that are smooth,
Rocks that are sharp.
Rocks that are cold and gray,
and rocks that dark.
Igneous rocks today,
Igneous rocks tomorrow.
Igneous rocks all the time,
found on top of Kilimanjaro.
Inside of the rocks,
lay the stone cold hard diamonds
that are worth a ton.
How I long to go down to the sea and sit on the rocks.
Hear the waves lapping around them in an effort to reach me.
Get me wet and uncomfortable.
You are the stone thrown,
into the depths of the river.
The subtle unsettling
upon the surface.
As you sink below the water,
don't fear that you may disappear
like all the secrets beneath--
from you the stillness of the lake
ripples out and echoes sweet
from the deepness
that lives inside.
When you hear the sleigh bells ringing,
and you know you've been a naughty pony,
When Santa Hooves delivers your present,
expect something very stony.
Cold like a lump, dark as night.
You see him ride away in the starlight.
Even though you got coal, you're filled with cheer,
and will try to be nice, next year.
Crunching between my teeth.
Is candy that we all made.
together, as friends.
We look down the pebble path,
and see the cold hard stones.
As every hoof clanks against the path,
of sorrows, sadness and war.
We view the rubble and the lath,
against the pebble path.
On a rock farm, that's where we live.
Every day we move rocks.
We move from the south to the east fields,
just moving rocks.
No talking, no smiling,
moving rocks was all we did.
Rocks.
