chimney sweeping man

i'm a chimney sweeping man

you see the black lines

on the backs of my hands

i planted all the gardens

i sent off all the hand-typed letters

to the empty shells on high

how i want to make things better

maybe you thought i'd be president

with my cheshire grin

high iq

and charming baby blues

well i'm a lowland forest resident

with lime in the outhouse

and black grime for tattoos

i try to make things better

i try to make things mine

i write a lot of letters

to pass the time

i pulled three hundred rocks

from the land to build my house

i walk quiet through the forest

like a tiny quiet forest mouse

i'm a chimney sweeping man

you see the black lines

on the backs of my hands