From hand to heart and hands to head
These gritty teeth grind gears of infrared
He crash lands in dull white noise
All I hear is static in his voice

When those sweet red hands start their whirlwinds
And you're the drain

You're imagining things, your pretend machine
Has sticks in its every spoke
You're inventing it all from thin air and close calls [bad word] to the balancing act

Your rabbit's foot is hare and hounds
And I drag pianos, eyes glued to the ground
When he dialed 911
Busy signals sang familiar songs

When those sweet red hands start their whirlwinds
And you're the plane

You're imagining things, your pretend machine
Has sticks in its every spoke
You're inventing it all from thin air and close calls
If we bought the stock we'd be broke

You taught us to claw
Put us through a speech
If I'm a red anchor
Then [bad word] with me
And on the way down
We'll sleep with the fish
As we go into the blue
We can both reminisce

And you better hide
Or learn how to climb
Cause [bad word] with me
And on the way down
You'll sleep with the fish [bad word] with me

You're imagining things, your pretend machine
Has sticks in its every spoke
You're inventing it all from thin air and close calls [bad word] to the balancing act