my skin is
|
white as parchment
|
drier than a downtown office building
|
where the air is tight
|
there's time spent
|
resting on her bones
|
waiting for the telephone to ring
|
ba-ring ba-ring ba-ring . . .
|
bo-ring bo-ring bo-ring . . .
|
|
my skin is
|
cold as her toes on the bathroom floor
|
run back to bed and slam the door
|
oh what a lovely sound
|
oh how it shakes the ground
|
oh what a lovely
|
|
skin is my
|
it's the only thing
|
that doesn't really fly in my land
|
and love is my love is
|
it's the only thing that
|
butterfly in Thailand
|
|
let it be printed on every t-shirt in this land
|
on the finest of cottons and the hippest of brands
|
in bolder letters than the capital I
|
it's the only thing it's the only thing
|
it's the only lonely whoa
|
|
my skin is
|
white as parchment
|
drier than a downtown office building
|
where the air is tight
|
there's time spent
|
waiting for that
|
macrame bird of prey
|
to come down and sing
|
la-ling la-ling la-ling
|
oh what a lovely sound
|
|
-----------------
|
Skin Is, My
|
| Andrew Bird |
