| And so it seems
|
| That sleep makes dreams
|
| And sleeplessness makes us
|
| That’s fine
|
| Melatonin and wine
|
| We got way too close
|
| Way too quickly
|
| To hopefulness to which we are both hopelessly addicted
|
| I’d say the tree still needs another bell
|
| Judgment, don’t fail me now
|
| It’s getting in my dreams
|
| It’s getting in my dreams
|
| It’s getting in my dreams
|
| And everything is always worse, babe
|
| At 4:30 in the morning
|
| Blackbird has died
|
| Red bird is on the rise
|
| Guess this is why
|
| I’ve always both loved and hated
|
| The sick gray light of the dawn
|
| But your hand is your wand
|
| And your landscape is drawn
|
| And your chariot awaits
|
| Beyond despondency
|
| The wheels will cut the earth
|
| Your chariot awaits
|
| It’s getting in my dreams
|
| It’s a bad shade of green
|
| But I don’t care what they say
|
| My dreams might say about me
|
| I need, I need something beautiful to carry
|
| And you’re all I care about, babe
|
| You’re all I care about, babe
|
| Your hand is your wand
|
| And your landscape is drawn
|
| And your chariot awaits |