Came to see, but the sun won’t come to me I won’t be the one who waits to speak ‘til the light brings something to say at once or in piece-lings to parcel away the fall of a slow-crawling, bellied sun that drags on the ground in its legless way
Did you fall for a lamp below your feet? Pretty things is all, and pretty things won’t call in the dark, won’t wait while you sleep I’d set them apart before hooks and eyes are all that you seek
And I know what cuts you in two (Two parts, too much for all the good that they do) You’d be surprised what a needle and string can do to mend these types, these types of things Oh, what a needle and string can do to mend these types, these types of things
You: you walk a straight and narrow line that I can never seem to find or pick apart from either side
I: I think in circles, and it shows I know everywhere they go They only change their lines enough to keep the play the same A shrugging course A shrub of sorts that grew from what I wouldn’t tame
I only want the strangest things but hoist the bells, and I will sing A ribbon strung your heart along It’s longer when the bow is gone
I know how to make a scene: I’ll tell them each a different thing and hope it all comes out the moment that I clear the crowd And tell me what you hope to bring to pass by keeping me around And tell me what you hope to bring to pass by never being proud
You only want the simplest things but hoist the bells, and I will sing A ribbon strung your heart along It’s longer when the bow is gone
You ask me if I’ll see it through I wish I knew, I wish I knew
You know the sound—some easy words could twist & turn you out You know I, you know I will always track them down You know the sound You know the sound You know the sound and you know I, you know I will always track it down