I tend to laugh when I get mad
and numb when I'm sad
so hand me your fourth finger on a silver platter
and I'll dress it with my mood ring

the open field and it's moving wind
has no mind, but it's all the same
the distance from heart to brain
and the distance from home to strange

the song never ends
the strings vibrate
muffled and underwater
slowly, slowly, slowly

my kind
always die
and live hard
live really intensely and hard and sturdy
always ending in melted wax
with smoke rising
waving hand gestures
with haze and goodbyes