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Teenage Wrist
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Spit
Here we are, adrift again
I can taste the spit, in the oxygen
The pilot's song, forgotten at the yard
To feel the trembling of the awful hand to God
And I hope, that this plan goes down
So I can see who comes to mind
So I can see who comes to mind
That I can crack a smile
And I'm alright, I'm just so tired
of feeling tired
The concious floating, in and out if our cartoon
Sedated in a cheery, underworld
Thoughts of making out
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A dry and gaping mouth
And I hope, that this plan goes down
So I can see who comes to mind
So I can see who comes to mind
And I hope, that this plan goes down
So I can see you one last time
So i can see you one last time
and dream away
and dream away
and dream away
and dream away
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