I woke to the world asleep,
The treetops on the ground,
And hearts filled with sea,
And raw rawness for sound.

(Could you make it go away?
Could you make it vanish?)

Why did we turn our backs for a single moment
When we know by now we can vanish
In the blink of an eye?
In the blink of an eye.

Make it go away.
Make it vanish.
Please make it go away.
Make it vanish.

Never meant to be,
The flash of eye is haunting,
There's groaning in the sea
And every wave is daunting.
They never will agree;
It's lovers they are taunting.

You lied and lied and lied and lied and lied and lied and lied and lied and lied.

And you said, 'Step down from the edge, my dear,
Too close to the edge, I fear.'

They're cutting all the roses down.
Darling, hold on tight, hold on tight.
And Lyssa dances through the town...
Darling, hold on tight, hold on tight.

You don't stand for me,
And I can stand ground.
The song I fired was sweet
And all the notes fell down.
Here, take my hand...
We're lifting with the sound.

We sang and sang and sang and sang and sang and sang and sang and sang and sang...

And I said, 'Step down from the ledge, my dear,
Too close to the edge, I fear.'

They're cutting all the roses down.
Darling, hold on tight, hold on tight.
And Lyssa dances through the town...
Darling, hold on tight, hold on tight.

Three golden apples
And she chased every one.
Raised by Henry and Daisy and Maisy...
And searching for the sun.
And when wise counsel came to me,
"Don't do it, don't do it! Never tie."
The same as you in top hat and tails
As the addled world flashed by.

And we are turned to lions, lions,
Through every evasive moonshine,
Through every ****** up bloodline,
Through every love divine.

Could we worship her right now?
Could she bring back your arms to me, for me?
And I would praise the dove, the swan, the myrtle tree.
I would board your ship
Hand you my spears and cut my hair,
And tend to every battle scar
If you saved me from this mountain air.

And we are turned to lions, lions,
Through every evasive moonshine,
Through every ****** up bloodline,
Through every love divine.

Three golden apples
And she chased every one:
Little Atalanta
Still searching for the sun.