Of all the churning random hearts
|
Under the sun
|
Eventually fading into night,
|
These two are opening now
|
We lie, I touch you
|
Wonderful, alive.
|
|
Girl, if you're a seascape
|
I'm a listing boat, for the thing carries every hope.
|
I invest in a single life.
|
The choice is yours to be loved
|
Come away from it empty of but us.
|
|
'Cause when the dead moon
|
Rises again
|
We've no time to stall or protocol
|
To hem us in.
|
And when the dog slides
|
Underneath the train,
|
There's no point or use in searching for
|
The mutt's remains.
|
|
Throw all consequence aside
|
And a cheerless pyre we will set alight.
|
|
Of all the intersecting lines in the sand
|
I routed a labyrinth to your lap.
|
I never used a map!
|
Sliding off the land on an incidental tide,
|
And along the way you know, they tried
|
They tried.
|
|
And we got sea legs
|
And we're off tonight
|
Can't have that to which they've no right.
|
You belong to a simpler time
|
I'm a victim to the impact of these words,
|
And this rhyme.
|
|
'Cause when that dead moon
|
Rises again
|
We've no time to stall or protocol
|
To hem us in.
|
Darling, when the dog slides,
|
Open the door, and where¡¯s she go?
|
There's no point in searching for
|
The mutt's remains.
|
|
Throw all consequence aside
|
And a cheerless pyre we will set alight.
|
|
-----------------
|
Sealegs
|
| The Shins |
