Tom Hay's Fox
Bring out your foghorns,
the mist has descended.
The alley's never been blinder.
What light there is,
is too diffused
to indicate any direction.
What light there is,
tells us nothing.
Bring out your foghorns,
the mist has descended.
The alley's never been blinder.
What light there is,
is too diffused
to indicate any direction.
What light there is,
tells us nothing.