Portugal. The Man New Orleans
I slip back down where we found
A meter milling maze
And the rest that we find sound
Will it find us on the bottom
Will we find our way
Will we fall apart useless
Machining the made
Find that sleep that we've lost
Fair and tired living lives like little lifted leans
Shaking heads under the shade of them bright bright bright sweet pear trees
Mine is gone with the day
Never miss a beat never find a home
Mine is gone with all time
Will we find our loves lost
Will we ever make it back
Will we ever need more than
The fill that we can get
Lets find that sleep that we lost
Mother, father, brother sister, son daughter
We are the rabbit that let the fox lead us
Out in the sun with the cold war fever
Don't need to beg for your money just please don't eat us
Deaf like the big guns foaming at the mouth their gnashing
Quiet like our words that roam and roll about
