You’re so good at spinning
The string on the back of my neck
We slept under the guise of the great
Lake Angeles

The might of my marrow
The theater where all the dead
Danced
Danced
Danced
Danced

As strong as a stone
And as soft as the dip in my hand

You’re so good at gleaning the pupil
For old bits of glass
It sits like a rainstorm
When covered in what you thought passed

The might of my marrow
The theater where all the dead
Danced
Danced
Danced
Danced

As strong as a stone
And as soft as the dip in my hand