Two cables, that'll do me Lopsided, always was in my disability It's still me you know, beneath the smoke What is there to do? Just sit
How reptilian is my neck What kind of jungle is my tongue I blow bubbles with my spit and shiver They have a life entire Always felt something was wrong
I see what Vermeer found in the wood I see the artist himself in an elusive space My guitar got a broken string, the bottom line I miss her voice and face