From the recording Is this really you Pinocchio?
Lyrics
Is this really you Pinocchio?
Once upon a long ago time
before the first word pushed us out into endless straight lines
there lived a lovely maiden beneath an almond tree
who could smile without thinking at all there was to see
And then the serpent came
and he taught her how to name everything throughout all creation
who then subsequently grouped themselves and formed themselves into nations
twenty thousand years later there’s politicians
telling us how to build a better nation by stockpiling big munitions
Boom boom boom
we all dead
For once in my life I wish I had the power to do what I know is right
to never think twice about it when you’ve got the wind at your back and sails are pulling for land
But hey isn’t that what the cowards say when they’re sitting at home
looking out the window dreaming about castles and ruby dark red wine
and women with goose-white breasts countries to save and demons and monsters to arrest
but hey I won’t keep you any longer I know you’ve got to get back to work
So work away
there’s nothing to say
I probably better lower it down to a lower key just so you’d look at me
you know I love you—a confession that slowed everything down to where you could see my strings
But is this really you Pinocchio? Your hands are cold
but your eyes and bright and your heart must surely know by now
your nose has gotten much too long and there’s nothing left for you to fall back on
The orders are to make it through another night to find out what’s wrong or right what’s black or white
without even knowing what to do with this shade of indecipherable grey
Hey how you do – I’d like to introduce you to yourself
But you’re working too hard to come up with clever things from your fingertips thinking if you could
deliver yourself into a special world where only you could rule but who you trying to fool and
Is this really you Pinocchio? Your hands are cold but your eyes are bright and your heart must surely know by now your nose has gotten much too long and there’s nothing left for you to fall back on
And so the little wooden man takes his little wooden hand and traces it across the sky
and wonders why he can never cry or be alive inside
Inside inside inside . . .
I can see my hands why can’t they push away all those things that keep me stuck
inside