glass airplane, circles over every jaw looking up 
Fear of a name, cursive in the porous spots 

And if you are a rare bird, build me into what you need 

These wings, could skin the surface of a hundred knees 
We are, plummeting down aboard this raging star 

The heir to close calls, pet names and punctuation 
False so often, painted red on every wall 
Your bones so thin, a hairline fracture in the wind 
heart full of butter knives and paper bricks 

And if you are a rare bird, build me into what you need 

These wings, could skin the surface of a hundred knees 
Sharp feet, propellers restless and two tons of meat 
We are, plummeting down aboard this raging star 
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