I banked the plane into the clouds the tundra's static surface
Drops beneath the spinning wheels of matter and of purpose
The Misfit's empty presence drags me to the earth and matter
The sun stops my waking dream
Much sadder, much sadder, much sadder.
Alone among assembled souls it's later in the evening
Back on land and holding fast to poisons and their seasons
He interlaced his fingers round my spine, between my ribs
Now I know that people die by telling themselves fibs.
Climb inside the cockpit and he's hanging on the wing
I look away, he slides inside, I sing I sing I sing.
Floating in the air, my body's still chained to my bed
I wander through the walls; I wonder if I'm dead.
Down below I see my shadow slide across the lake
His hand is on my shoulder, squeeze until, squeeze until it breaks.