Lyrics

She's pressed into the pavement
Wriggling between a heart that's made of concrete and paraiba tourmaline
She pours a glass of honey, her fingers crystalline
The taste is giving me potholes in my dreams
Get up and make the coffee, see if this bird can sing
She's tearing out the pages of a fashion magazine
Sometimes I think she'll stay here
But with all her flittering, I'd probably have to pin her; lepidopterology
So hey, come on, and play my favorite song
Tell me all that I've done wrong

I could swallow my possessions and spew them in the creek
Go full romantic like I always meant to be
I hate to disappoint her, thought I had more to say
It's all a joke but it's not funny
I'll probably die here anyway
So hey, come on, and play my favorite song
Tell me all that I've done wrong