Из альбома: Of Birds, Bees, Butterflies, Etc.
I said I hope, like a prayer
And sent out my tears in a bottle of notes
Find and drink up; it's uncommon and sweet
Are you surprised? Is it making you mine?
You morph into the last living thing alive
I've no periphery, you're all that's in front of me
Are you the rock, paper, scissors
Casting those faded paper figures on the wall?
As providence seems to annihilate
Common sense, this is my down-to-earth defense
Brush it off again as trickery, slight of hand
If you must but for all purposes and intents
Either I am right or I am wrong
If it's in neither the words nor the song
It's in this soundless, audible common sense
Be that as it may, this is my down-to-earth defense
You morph into the last living thing alive
I've no periphery, you're all that's in front of me
Brush it off again as trickery, slight of hand
If you must but for all purposes and intents
You morph into the last living thing alive
I've no periphery You're all that's in front of me