Album: White Holes of Mole Hills
Pluto puffs out his chest,
Takes a deep breath, and says...
"Eris it would be nice if we could have some time alone,
But I know what it's like, I've got moons of my own.
And they circle me so close as though they'll sneak beneath the skin,
'til I can't tell if they're drawn to me or if I'm pulling 'em in.
Oh, solar stupid system, stupid rule of gravity!
Can't they all just turn the other way and you be drawn to me?
When the sky wraps us tight in a blanket of light
That renders us lovers,
'til the truth nestles in in the dead of the night
And steals all the covers
So before I lose my nerve as he creeps up beside you,
Before he crawls in and curls up inside you
And I finally fall to bits...
Gizza kiss, Eris."
Thirty-nine times as far from the sun as Earth,
And only two thousandths of the size,
Pluto must rely on his mind,
Being only one thousand four hundred miles wide...
So he tells her a joke he heard about mother Earth and all her living cells,
That are making their own craters and spying on themselves.
While they roll around the sky they're careful not to make a sound,
'cause if she hears 'em laugh she'll cry, and if she cries she drowns.
"Oh foolish clown," thinks Pluto, looking down on his own empty ground,
"She must have quite a weight to carry 'round."
And the sky wraps them tight in a blanket of light
That renders them lovers,
'til the truth nestles in in the dead of the night
And steals all the covers.
And he raises his eyes with that feeling of sinking,
Of what on motherfucking earth was he thinking,
Of finally falling to bits.
'n it's only a kiss, Eris.
But Eris the gracious and misleadingly friendly
Smiles with warmth and says firmly, but tenderly...
"Pluto please go and get some sleep,
Gotta be up early in the morning,
And your tambourine just can't keep the time.
And if in the dark someone steals my heart,
However hard you're shaking,
Your tambourine just won't keep its beat...
From racing.
From racing."
Plus the over-thinking, over-complicating
Pluto has a habit of exaggerating,
Of making white holes of molehills.
'n so it's sort of funny and it sort of isn't
How he can't make plans or assemble decisions.
Those white holes of molehills.
Still the harder he tries the harder he finds it to stop,
And the harder it gets the harder it gets to watch.
But Pluto unruffles his feathers,
Pulls himself together, and says...
"Oh Eris it would be nice if we could have some time alone,
But I know what it's like, I've got moons of my own.
But not for the length of your legs or because you
Mean more to me now than the heavens above you
But because I love you to bits.
Gizza kiss, Eris."