don’t wanna sit here flinch and wait
till the day has switched it’s blade
guess he’s been talking on his phone
convincing fish to swim back home

if hands spread words they just can’t grab
to bring back home nothing but [bad word] our crappy children fall for holes
where giants’ll step right onto their very souls

please, mr. landslide take my hand
and pull me out of this [bad word] sand
we all need woods to dive into
and perfect slumber for me and you

what a perfect luxury this is [bad word] we’re waiting for a fix
while chapels wake up every sound
and happy coupples all around
 [bad word] your walls, [bad word] down
black out that overrated sound
where’s your shore? I can’t see the ground
there aint no planets for this sinking town