Send me some B-flats to conquer the tricks
And don’t lie and say you never played this
I’ve got enough ring dipped hands to stay occupied
But I was never hidden in something I couldn’t hide
For what we dive, is what’s our own
Twisted eights found in the foam
For what we dive, is what’s our own
Hardened clay poured in the bowl
Frail to explain, it’s forgettingly true
What the dashboard sea washed over was blue
On liquid roads that left me mud roses to bloom
Poor cities craft people like colors might do
For what we dive, is what’s our own
Twisted eights found in the foam
For what we dive, is what’s our own
Stranded shards we’ll give to hold
So I’ll say it sometimes, but it’s never spilled red
Or I’ll spell it backwards, but it never makes sense
What a wonderful fool they will all say she is
A color wrecked white in society islands
