Tonart: A minor
Verse 1
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Collagia, Collagia
Collagia was a wooden Indian
standing by the door
He fell in love with an Indian maiden
over in the antique store
Collagia
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Just stood there and never let it show
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So she could never answer yes or no
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Poor old Colliger, he never got a kiss
he don't know what he missed
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Is it any wonder that his face is red?
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Colliger,
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that poor old wooden head
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Colliger, Colliger
He always wore his Sunday feathers
and held a tomahawk
The maiden wore her beads and braids
and hoped someday he'd talk
Collagia
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Too stubborn to ever show a sign
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Because his heart was made of knotty pine
he never got a kiss
he don't know what he missed
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Is it any wonder that his face is
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red?
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And then one day a
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wealthy customer
bought the Indian maid
And took her oh so far away,
but old Kalija stayed Kalija
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Just stands there as lonely as can be
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And wishes he was still an old pine tree
he never got a kiss
he don't know what he missed
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Is it any wonder that his
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Kaleidza, that poor old wooden head
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Collider,
Collider,
Collider
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