Why do you lay in the grass?
Why do you lay there?
Don't you want to be found?
Why do you lay in the grass?
Why do you lay there?
Don't you want to be found?
Why do you lay in the grass?
Why do you lay in the grass?
Don't you want that?
Don't you want that?
Don't you want that?
Isn't the sun even going to try to find a hole in the clouds?
Isn't the sun even going to try to find a hold in the clouds?
Isn't it even gonna try?
Isn't it even gonna try
to find a hole in the clouds?
Isn't it even gonna try?
Why won't it try, then?
Why do you lay in the grass?
Why do you lay there?
Don't you want to be found?
Why do you lay so low in the grass?
Why do you lay there?
Don't you want to be found?
Why do you lay in the grass?
Why do you lay in the grass?
Don't you want to be found?
Don't you want to be found?
I thought that you wanted that.

You follow a footstep's echoes leading down a hall to a room.
There is music playing tiny bells with moving parts.
Here the shadows make things ugly; an effect quite undesirable.
The bold and yellow daylight grows like ivy across the wall
and it bounces off the painted porcelein, tiny dancing doll.
Her body spins. As she pirouettes again the world suddenly seems small.
On an off-white, subtle morning, you stretch your legs in the front seat;
and the road has made a vacuum where our voices used to be.
And you lay your head onto my shoulder; pour like water over me.
So if I just exist for the next ten minutes of this drive that would be fine,
and all of the trees that line this curb would be rejoicing and alive.
Soon all the joy that pours from everything makes fountains of your eyes
because you finally understand the movement of a hand waving goodbye.

Tomorrow when I wake up I'm finding my brother
and making him take me back down to the water.
That lake where we sailed and laughed with our father.
I will not desert him. I will not desert him.
No matter how I may wish for a coffin so clean,
or these trees to undress all their leaves onto me.
I put my face in the dirt and then finally I see
the sky that has been avoiding me.
I started this letter; I'm going to send it to Ruba;
It will be blessed by her eyes on the gulf coast of Florida.
With her feet in the sand and one hand on her swimsuit,
she will recite the prayer of my pen.
Saying, "Time take us forward, relief from this longing.
They can land that plane on my heart, I don't care.
Just give me November; the warmth of a whisper
in the freezing darkness of my room."
But no matter what I would do in attempt to replace
all these pills that I take trying to balance my brain;
I've seen the curious girl with that look on her face,
so surprised she stares out from her display case.

I saw you at the subway the other day
You were drinking hot chocolate
I thought about asking you for a sip
but on second thought I didn't want to burn my tongue
I chased you up the stairs and outside
I got into a taxi cab
I didn't want to see you, you were looking good
I wanted to cool off and take some time out of the busy day
I heard a knock on my door, my door
Who was there?
What are you doing here?
I'm really not sure you should be here right now
Because I'm going. It's getting a little pricey
that you should be in Sweden, my friend
because it's the only place for you
I hear they have really nice gear of sorts there.
You should be in Sweden, my friend.
Yeah, you should be in Sweden.
Get yourself to Sweden
I'll tell you what we can do

You're not bent on calling me
and we'll do lunch, I'm sure.
Your fax machine can fax my bags
and it will get in touch with your answering machine's secretary.

Your hair doesn't shine like it used to.
You're not using that conditioner I gave you last year for your birthday.
It was salon selected. I thought you would like it.
And now I'm so scared. I'm pale as white.
I would invite you to sit but I didn't want you to ruin my new sofa.
I've felt this too many times.
I just got myself back up the nerve to say, the nerve
that you should be in Sweden, my friend.
What are you doing here?
You should be in Sweden.
You can ski when you're there.
You should be in Sweden, my friend.
Yeah, get yourself to Sweden.
I don't care how you do it.
Just go to Sweden. Go to Sweden.
I'll tell you what we can do.

You're not bent on calling me,
but we'll do lunch, I'm sure.
Your fax machine can fax me back
and get in touch with my cappuccino maker.

You're not bent on calling me,
and we'll talk for a while, I'm sure.
You can get back my postcard machine
and it'll get in touch with your answering machine's secretary.