i'm not ready for my heart to fill
roses charge the blackhawk ships
i'm packed in funeral lint
maybe my last seasaw thought
draped the chord with your media plot
the sky is pressed against your cloud
the bottle points to the winter sand
i'm sorry i'm not ready
i'm sorry my corners drain the bread
it's been a long time since i've spun around
lakes of marmalade and gold
some have driven across the heat
we've met a thousand times and each time
i've burned my letters for ash and smoke
they turn to drill the mountain road
it's me, it's me, i'm starved
i'm naive and the planet is pale
i'm one mitosis away from a better grade
gravitational sin add me the things you've said
i'm better off written into a card
with words the implore and cover ground
then you could fetch me anytime
and when the rain stops completely
i will add sparkle onto your god
and you can decide for both of us
who it was that first had the earth