At night when the streetlights look like a parade Our bodies are in motion and they're not afraid Of carrying on in any fashion till' the morning light Covering our broken love with perfectly foolish delights
The graves of our elders The plots of our great youth Are covering our broken dreams With the most absurdist proofs Light the gluttony of love Like swallowing your spit back up Like every time you fix it You really f**k it up
I'll go flying these flights over Words like grass that I've mowed over I'll come crashing into a sentence Chicken scratched and bloody Hoping it's beautiful
The senseless text of our every machine Equals the senseless text of man's mental regime There is a punctuation behind every lie But there is no punctuation on the earth or the sky
I'll go flying these flights over Words like grass that I've mowed over I'll come crashing into a sentence Chicken scratched and bloody Hoping it's beautiful