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The Shins
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The Rifle's Spiral (Live from the Lot)
Dead lungs command it.
You pour your life down the rifle's spiral
And show us you've earned it.
Cleric's fog will recede right before your eyes.
So long to this wretched form.
Down gray eyes on the subway.
Long before you were born
You were always to be a dagger floating
Straight to their heart.
Listen, now, we won't tell anyone.
But you're gonna tell the world.
So life ain't then any fun.
May this rail unfurl.
As you rise; rise from your burning fiat,
Go, go get my suitcase, would you?
You've thoroughly blown their mind.
And now I must have passage on the lines
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To the veins from your heart.
You're not invisible, now.
You just don't exist.
Your mother must be so proud.
You sublimate yourself, granting us a wish.
Primitive mirror on the wall,
to fortify your grim resolve.
And made the glitz of a shopping mall
another grain of indigent salt to the sea.
Go back to this wretched form
All them gray eyes on the subway
So long before you were born
you were always to be a dagger floating
straight to their heart.
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