Little Red Lung Rare Bird
A glass airplane, circles over every jaw looking up
Fear of a name, cursive in the porous spots
And if you are a rare bird, build me into what you need
These wings, could skin the surface of a hundred knees
We are, plummeting down aboard this raging star
The heir to close calls, pet names and punctuation
False so often, painted red on every wall
Your bones so thin, a hairline fracture in the wind
A heart full of butter knives and paper bricks
And if you are a rare bird, build me into what you need
These wings, could skin the surface of a hundred knees
Sharp feet, propellers restless and two tons of meat
We are, plummeting down aboard this raging star
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