I let them let me lead. That's why we went in those directions that my heart is bent (I tell you when it's far too late to make my tangled language come out straight). All that I'd write home about is what they cancel out. Never have a break from the same mistake, frightened of the phone, each second not its own. Every single jitter has the right excuse for a chicken liver with a life reduced. It's pretty tough to care about what's fair, try to pull yourself together when you're everywhere. This one guy you must speak to for several days before talking about his ways, learn the context, because it hurts less … or so he says. If you say we're centred right behind the eyes and the rest is just disguise … when I'm trying to sleep but I'm kept aware by the emphasis of the bedroom air, all your hokey shit makes a lot of sense, so I'll now breathe in and count back from ten. What happens then? I won't grow old in a single day. I'm trying to sleep, but I'm kept aware by the emphasis of the bedroom air. I can feel the point of the thread come through as it comes to me: "when it comes to you, you can let the point of the thread come through. No-one knows but you."
Lyrics submitted by toadtws