I’m a chimney sweeping man
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You see the black lines
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On the backs of my hands
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I planted all the gardens
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I sent off all the hand-typed letters
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To the empty shells on high
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How i want to make things better
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Maybe you thought i’d be president
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With my cheshire grin, high iq
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And charming baby blues
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Well i’m a lowland forest resident
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With lime in the outhouse
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And black grime for tattoos
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I try to make things better
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I try to make things mine
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I write a lot of letters
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To pass the time
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I pulled three hundred rocks
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From the land to build my house
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I walk quiet through the forest
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Like a tiny quiet forest mouse
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I’m a chimney sweeping man
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You see the black lines
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On the backs of my hands
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Chimney Sweeping Man
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| Laura Veirs |
