Fingers Cut Megamachine Open Up The Yellow Cross
I need to tell you what I'm missing.
It's an old way if it belonged to anyone.
I don't need you to blow the whistle.
Tucked away, late at night, I remember a good life.
It's pouring through a crack in the window,
wrapped around a blanket, but this is no body.
Half-asleep in the snow, I never saw off those wild, wild
oats,
but the more that it comes I let it pass.
I know you need to be eased.
You feel like a sister,
but those wolves in our love,
what is real about them?
Open up the yellow cross.
Don't believe the weighted cost.
And if time is a dream, it flips itself and your mind.
Half-asleep in the snow, I never saw off those wild, wild
oats,
and the more that it comes I let it pass.
