Žodžiai dainai: Foreign Elfest. Blue Dirt / Red Carpet. Cheekbone Pillow.

Have prosperous thoughts been dehydrated?
Dry as soft smoke tumbling on your lips
You cannot hold on to love or hate
Once you?ve been evaporated
Once you have evaporated
And no four feet stay in one place
In cold March, we walked thirty blocks
Sam, me, you, and Rob through a park
Onto a dock, and back again
The dark water found me
Curiously in a state of study
Noting all of our individual reveries
I guess my thoughts were in blankets
Careless of my two feet still moving
But, then with quiet
Fresh adolescent dictation
My lips slammed on a low branch
There's proof that external direction
Is a greater protection
Than analytical narcissism
Of the gears that forge all of my wishing
But back again to unappreciative and stupid
We are weak as humans
Now I can add, and sing a song
My lips can sip, and I can love
But there comes the time
When that's not nearly close to enough
I see my girl has been torn by thorns
Far past my stronger reach
My stuttered comfort is not worth much
When my gaze on her is an unwanted breach
What could fill what she needs?
All I ask is to be one with gods
Not to drown in wine or take water walks
I need more things that my palms can move
Limited as my bones are now
I know not what to do
I know not what to do
And it pains my will to be out of use
You noticed and brought
My eardrum so close to you
\"Sweetie, let's sit down get some ground
Just talk, lie around
Set your hands on carpet
Move 'em around until you feel it
Place your hands on my cheeks
Keep them there as long as you need
Keep that head out of the dirt or clouds
They lack the air you need to breathe?
What could fill what I need?
Her fragile hummingbird vocal
Spread like fire
To a short-term phoenix confidence
Soothing as a ceiling fan
Or a mechanical bird
Breaking through atmospheres
Security is the scent of an airplane pillow
Behind all rising heads
If all falls, well then I will fall
But oh If I don?t
My destination is known.
You say we?re all our own idols
So hold these gods? control
And transfuse me that hope
That tomorrow my woes
Will turn out all quid pro quo

(Thanks to Kate for these lyrics)