|
Your back curves like a creeping vine |
|
With the answers in the fluid in the stem of the spine, yeah |
|
In the black-coffee bowl of your eye |
|
Why do you overestimate the size of the lie? |
|
I've seen the dangers of your rising sign |
|
But I swear |
|
I'd like to drink the fuel straight from your lighter |
|
It's all inside the wrist, it's all inside the way you time it |
|
I resent the way you make me like myself |
|
My nerves jump like a boiling pan |
|
Like a skillet full of oil spits rattling on the burner |
|
When I stumble onto the thought |
|
Of the match you lit and dropped and set the dial to slow yearn |
|
I've seen the dangers of your rising sign |
|
But I swear |
|
I'd like to drink the fuel straight from your lighter |
|
It's all inside the wrist, it's all inside the way you time it |
|
I resent the way you make me like myself |
|
Can I spell it out? |
|
Ah, can I spell it out? |
|
I've seen the dangers of your rising sign |
|
But I swear |
|
I'd like to drink the fuel straight from your lighter |
|
It's all inside the wrist, it's all inside the way you time it |
|
I resent the way you make me like myself |
|
I resent the way you make me like myself |
