I wrote a song about you
The first I've ever done
I've been playing seventeen years
You'll never hear it sung
If I have to breathe the lyrics
I'll set fire to my tongue
I never talk about myself
because then you could not run

I'm a lie behind a fountain
The sun is to the moon
I hate the outer space
I lay inside—entombed

The granite cast of actors
Their eyes are made of gold
I'll take their scripts and hearts and souls
and sell them for more gold
Your smile led me in circles
You sought for what you sold
It was simply circulation
Your hands were awfully cold

Take it while it's cold
It still won't splatter
Drink it on the stove
It still won't matter
Seal it's lips to kiss
It still won't chatter
Raze it's crops to dust
It still won't gather
Strip it from its lenses
It still won't stare
Rip it from the moonlight
It still won't glare
Take it like a pill
It won't be taken lightly
It's in my heart—in yours
It will never grasp you tightly
It's never holding still

You simply can't deceive it
It just misunderstands
What's wrong with you, is wrong with me
You lack the essence of a friend
Things grow from roots that split
The strand means to an end
I don't like to say favorite
It has a way of changing plans

I'll look down at you
"Your hair—it still looks nice"
You'll look down at me
I won't be looking twice