Phillips In a street of many colors Dripping rain and running water Galli said to Mr. Troster Have you found your seven sons Yes I have for that conclusion He was suffering from delusion From an honorable institution And he came very close to losing And I know the one that's choosing Any name you've been perusing And he walked down in the gardens Said to prosper And you take his hand when he starts crying 'Cause he's lost his band from too much flying In his manhole covered wagon in the morning yeah So now Fanny is resting easy On a crocheted quilt in town Making love to Johnny Colter In his home outside the sound And they're thinking of creation With their gathering elation So to populate the nation With a thought to emancipation And a silent exclamation With its current constipation And its dead-set against malasian Kind of thinking Then he spoke to all his children Said we're building up the brawl Just you keep your fists from flying In its holographic cause And bring your love and guitars While we sit and count the stars And talk about faith among us Without visiting any bars Mr. Troster replies to Galli Among the bright and heavy cars And the truth about life among us That it's trying very hard