|
Wrap you up in a coat of cobwebs |
|
Tactile little heart attacks |
|
The more you lick, the more I trip |
|
You behave like a postcard rack |
|
So try this trick and spin it |
|
Spin again, my Surfer Rosa |
|
All the while the world is whirling |
|
The morning tilts closer |
|
Your eyelids keep secrets |
|
Your eyelids keep secrets |
|
My soft and deep |
|
While you sleep |
|
Know no secrets |
|
Blow, blow bubbles with nicotine gum |
|
Kiss me below the seatbelt line |
|
On the roof with a toothpick flag |
|
Take your broken wings and learn to sigh |
|
In the half life of balloons |
|
We will measure how our hairs grow |
|
We lie curled like question marks |
|
Drifting off on pheromones |
|
Your eyelids keep secrets |
|
Your eyelids keep secrets |
|
My soft and deep |
|
I creep, I creep with the grace of an ice cream truck |
|
Ever wrought, you sleep |
|
Beneath a blanket of dust, I'll tuck you in |
|
My soft and deep |
|
Know no secrets |
|
So try this trick and spin it |
|
Spin again, my Surfer Rosa |
|
All the while the world is whirling |
|
The morning tilted closer |
|
My soft and deep |
|
My soft and deep |
|
My Soft and deep |
|
I creep, I creep with the grace of an ice cream truck |
|
Ever wrought, you sleep |
|
Beneath a blanket of dust, I'll tuck you in |
|
My soft and deep |
|
Know no secrets |
|
Deep. |
