I was walking down the street one day, the street it spun round like a record player.
And all my thoughts came back to me, like an overcrowded house party, with everyone a little too close together.
We couldn't find a way to fight the breeze, so instead we simply spread our wings and lifted.
And we became unstuck in time, like two voyeuristic angels in the beginning.
I've been watching here for hours, I still can't make out a single shape.
And everyone is pointing fingers out to sea, if they're so sure then why can't anyone explain it right to me?
I'm in training as a house guest, on the door step of a mansion, with roomfuls of distinguished ladies and gentlemen dancing.
We were arrogant as early birds, just spittin' out the worms, and choking on the words our parents gave us.
And I'd like to tell you it gets better right quick, but the aesthetic of time's more like a hula-hoop than a yard stick.
I've been watching here for hours, I still can't make out a single shape.
And everyone is pointing fingers out to sea, if they're so sure then why can't anyone explain it right to me?
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