Lyrics
Your building is full of people who hate you and bite off fingers and eat from piles and someone's knocking
All things spit towards and stutter at you, closer and closer until the whole city falls over while the music breaks a window
You're suspicious of treasures and plastic covers, all things flop over, the oven is open and the kitchen is lying
My name is gonna sound old to you, but names are donuts on the sea, yeah, names are peanuts in the trees, names bid you to beg for trash
O I walk on everything, on lucky dollars, baskets in the sand, sunglasses in the rain, tire tracks in caves
I'll never send one more empty box, I'll talk to every crowded room, I'll go to the great carnivals of pain and fight entire fields of cops and keep a coconut in my hand
Nina knows the reason, and she's seen into the mouth of what it is to be a mountain
And she's seen all the good pigeon-like people shot down and bones be kicked to powder by the insane wild horses
Nina, I'm not nothing, but when you lie on the piano, I am reminded I am stupid
And in every upstairs room, a tall and daughterless Russian is kicking robins' eggs to powder, throwing music out the window
Cavemen are kissing, and walking on logs, low enough to limbo cobwebs and watch the clouds blow away, drunk driving towards the sea
I'll be at your feet in every lifeboat, I'll hold these lemons in my mouth and run, one of the important people standing on your chest, I'll love whatever kicks me hardest in the mouth, I'm gonna eat my keys
I've met a little bit of who I am, backpacking upon the fingers of the real
Barricading every garden gate, smiling into every cup of grapes, I safari across the neighbor's yard, pushing groceries past pyramids of teeth with my hands on my hips
O this idiot festival, I man these cornfields for the banana-growing masses getting naked on the plane, sunburned to shit in the rain
Tomatoes in the missing barrels all have met many-handed boys with laughing brains and know gorilla-fingered yapping dogs, the ugly kidney-needing kitten sees that the empty chairs just want somebody
Nina isn't listening, and she's seen into the mouth of what is really in the fountain
And she's seen all the good pigeon-like people shot down and bones be kicked to powder by the insane wild horses
Nina, I'm not nothing, but when you check under cabinets, I'm reminded someone's calling
And in every upstairs room, a dirty old man is blushing
Kicking everything to powder, throwing music out the window
These great spirals, diagrams and vegetables and talking red trees, throw it all away
Stupid paper gifts offered with both hands are sadder than bald-headed haircut dreams, sadder than that paper-flat puppy in your path, sadder than any featherless doer of math, sadder than the sad
Microwave everything and add to the puddles, gimme an answer, die for baseball
Motorcycle made of rocks, eat this hotel key and ride away, stuff these papers down your pants and do the sole survivor's walk back down the way you came
Nina knows the reason, and she's seen into the mouth of what it is to be a mountain
And she's seen all the good pigeon-like people shot down and bones be kicked to powder by the insane wild horses
Nina, I'm not nothing, but when you lie on the piano, I am reminded I am so stupid
And in every upstairs room, a tall and daughterless Russian is kicking robins' eggs to powder, throwing music out the window
All things spit towards and stutter at you, closer and closer until the whole city falls over while the music breaks a window
You're suspicious of treasures and plastic covers, all things flop over, the oven is open and the kitchen is lying
My name is gonna sound old to you, but names are donuts on the sea, yeah, names are peanuts in the trees, names bid you to beg for trash
O I walk on everything, on lucky dollars, baskets in the sand, sunglasses in the rain, tire tracks in caves
I'll never send one more empty box, I'll talk to every crowded room, I'll go to the great carnivals of pain and fight entire fields of cops and keep a coconut in my hand
Nina knows the reason, and she's seen into the mouth of what it is to be a mountain
And she's seen all the good pigeon-like people shot down and bones be kicked to powder by the insane wild horses
Nina, I'm not nothing, but when you lie on the piano, I am reminded I am stupid
And in every upstairs room, a tall and daughterless Russian is kicking robins' eggs to powder, throwing music out the window
Cavemen are kissing, and walking on logs, low enough to limbo cobwebs and watch the clouds blow away, drunk driving towards the sea
I'll be at your feet in every lifeboat, I'll hold these lemons in my mouth and run, one of the important people standing on your chest, I'll love whatever kicks me hardest in the mouth, I'm gonna eat my keys
I've met a little bit of who I am, backpacking upon the fingers of the real
Barricading every garden gate, smiling into every cup of grapes, I safari across the neighbor's yard, pushing groceries past pyramids of teeth with my hands on my hips
O this idiot festival, I man these cornfields for the banana-growing masses getting naked on the plane, sunburned to shit in the rain
Tomatoes in the missing barrels all have met many-handed boys with laughing brains and know gorilla-fingered yapping dogs, the ugly kidney-needing kitten sees that the empty chairs just want somebody
Nina isn't listening, and she's seen into the mouth of what is really in the fountain
And she's seen all the good pigeon-like people shot down and bones be kicked to powder by the insane wild horses
Nina, I'm not nothing, but when you check under cabinets, I'm reminded someone's calling
And in every upstairs room, a dirty old man is blushing
Kicking everything to powder, throwing music out the window
These great spirals, diagrams and vegetables and talking red trees, throw it all away
Stupid paper gifts offered with both hands are sadder than bald-headed haircut dreams, sadder than that paper-flat puppy in your path, sadder than any featherless doer of math, sadder than the sad
Microwave everything and add to the puddles, gimme an answer, die for baseball
Motorcycle made of rocks, eat this hotel key and ride away, stuff these papers down your pants and do the sole survivor's walk back down the way you came
Nina knows the reason, and she's seen into the mouth of what it is to be a mountain
And she's seen all the good pigeon-like people shot down and bones be kicked to powder by the insane wild horses
Nina, I'm not nothing, but when you lie on the piano, I am reminded I am so stupid
And in every upstairs room, a tall and daughterless Russian is kicking robins' eggs to powder, throwing music out the window