| Behind… behind me
|
| Is a long line of trees leaning along the island shore
|
| Preventing solid ground from crumbling to the river floor
|
| I’m hoping you’ll pull up and slip your anchor down
|
| Maybe for many ages just decide to hang around
|
| Inside… inside me
|
| They sat on volcanoes, spewing red from its vents
|
| And from many millennia ago when completely dormant
|
| I’m hoping you’ll notice and shift your comprehensions
|
| Maybe move with more urgency or energy with your sense of direction
|
| Ahead… ahead of me
|
| Is a grey nebula rolling off balls of lint
|
| Into the infinite sediment-forged fields toward stories of star detriment
|
| I’m wondering if you’ll be up there still with your anchor down
|
| For many more ages just decide to hang around
|
| I guess the mass is just a bit tricky, but even the universe comes round and
|
| round
|
| Well time is a spotlight that was somehow not decided whether it even matters
|
| now
|
| Cuz' my heart beats faster than your heart beats faster as it gets sucked back
|
| into the ground
|
| Well it’s not like we’re chugging each other’s shit-can closed in this drain we
|
| circle down
|
| Cuz' we settin' the trap and took two steps back and with our own bait anyhow
|
| Yeah, you didn’t like the world getting beat on the ass in the final fucking
|
| round
|
| Time is a spotlight and it’s pointed in the wrong direction right about now
|
| Oh, the heart beats faster; |
| yes, the heart beats faster; |
| now the finger comes
|
| around |