you're under another night and you drank too much of that rye you're riding your bike and you're tearing a left at the lights you can smell that the summer is done and the winter hangs over us all you'll go to work when the morning has come but now there's nothing but stars
pull me out of my, pull me out of my body and into the black the one feeling you wanted, you want it, is the one thing you're holding back
now no one could call you weak you've been as stoic and strong as could be but nothing is simple or straight and you drank till they turned you away there's so much to take in, so much to taste even shadows and edges all explode in your face but then remember a fall night with the moon as big as your mind
becky, i keep having this dream in the night where it seems i can fly but only when no one's around when the people appear i come plummeting down jung, carl, tell me, what can that mean? i swear i'm not scared, i'm just happy to be here how can you tell me that these beautiful things are holding me back before i even begin?
becky, i keep having this thought that you don't even exist and i just made you up cause it's a sin to be alone in your prime on the grass with a stain on your pants from your bike young carl, tell me, what can it mean? i swear i'm not sad i'm just lucky to be here how can you tell me that these beautiful things are holding me back before i even begin...
to pull me out of my, pull me out of my body and into the black the one feeling you wanted, you want it, is the one thing you're holding back pull me out of it, pull me out of it and into the black-black-black pull me out of it and into a fall night where you're falling off of your bike
Compositor: Timothy John Baker ECAD: Obra #36738862