spread to me,
in the sea;
fog snug tight,
When life puts carpet in your food,
There’ll always be another moon.
When th’world eats you without a chew,
‘Cause there’ll always be another moon.
If they serve you mud without a plate,
There’s always be another rain.
Don’t let them lick the frosting off your cake,
‘Cause there’ll always be another rain.
While mourning the morns the afternoon had torn,
there’ll always be another storm.
If you shut your hand in another door,
‘Cause there’ll always be another storm.
So pour me another,
pour me another.