Woorden: John Frusciante. Niandra Lades & Usually Just A T-Shirt. Mascara.

There's a belt of sun dripping through a porthole
In a set design
Can you read your name?
It's been so long since we blew from the inside
So where have you been since you fell off the flat edge
Of the world under an ugly sky
You've been lying by
But they meant you, dance under the moonlight
Do what you think is the sum
Of the flesh and blood
Above there's small birds gone to trembling
In for thousands of your years

Voice 1: You felt like crystal in your thighs
Voice 2: You get four red candles
Voice 2: On the table with your penis by your eyes
Voice 1: You're the one that makes me realize
Voice 1: Big water flowing through to tomorrow
Voice 2: Through to your vacation
Voice 1: Apples and cake must have been your stake
Voice 2: ? (something about "a gallon of wine") but the smile you send in my direction
Both: Makes me feel like I'm alive
Voice 1: You're hidden by your wooden legs
Voice 2: You're my kind, You're my kind
Voice 2: You always make me feel like a moon in my life
Voice 1: Stay here in down at the world's edge, for a time
Voice 2: It always makes me feel good to know you're alive, wrapping your ties
Voice 1: Down by the whirlpool, I finally realized you must have bittenyour snake,
your little guy
Voice 1: I've been insane well the time is slow
Voice 2: I've been to a society where you can't see yourself and you can't feel sunshine
Voice 2: And if you see me roaming the hillside won't you come along? It's all gone to
the top of yourself. You'll always be alone.
Voice 1: The Pope don't matter when the pawn is your sea, don't you agree?
Voice 2: I like you in my love, makes me feel good just to know I can love someone like you.
They'll make it hard for you choose. I can understand but when you see the tears coming you close your eyes.
To you I'm sure it's no surprise that I could be one of the dead.
Thank god my underwear's full of lead without you. Without you.
Voice 1: When you're around I'm wound around your thumb. You wanna be numb inside the gun.
All your different delights are one big fight against thebaby inside that you've mistaken for pain