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- 歌词
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Maps & Atlases
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Stories About Ourselves
Blue Christmas lights
tell us stories about ourselves
I saw you biting yours nails
through a pane of glass in that restaurant
late night conversations when
you told me there were no stars
just satellites
And I lay down in the shirt you used
as a towel when there were none
left and that the stars were a felt
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blanket draped over tabletops of a
smoke seeping factory (?) gestures
Bent puzzle pieces we are
small cities tall buildings
this glass flipper is giving me blisters
now
I'd prefer not
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