I can see 1000 rays of light in the middle of the night, but is it dangerous to be mystified by the color in my eyes? I can not decide where it is I shouldn't run; where it is I shouldn't ride, 'cause I won't stop knowin that I don't know how I throw my bones into a broken bow of a boat that floats to an open town by the sea, where the breeze makes this sound
I come unglued when I get rude, but I feel anew when I'm subdued, its just a petty thing don't let me bring anything to this levy I just let it rip
I can tell the distance to the sun gets shorter if you run, but is it dangerous to be the bullet in a gun? Can I ride that tide? I cannot decide if it isn't all above; if it's only up inside of a thing that brings me up to a level. I sing to myself, then down to the devil. As I sit on the breeze he can hear me yellin at the sea sayin "pease don't melt"