Made of wanting, solely, I’m used to - it’s easy, look at what we gain
Sorta holding on loose ever so slightly, fingers feeling rain
And if it’s over will you wanna go, I’m down
If you account for me and vouch for me every time we go...
Will you surrender to a remedy so ripe it’s running cold?
Push in to fix, to get it set
Pushing to feel the very half
And it counts as an echo when we get out
Never one not only, no not like the TV, whittle it away
Sorta novel to stay largest and heavy, mountain full of clay
And if it’s over will you wanna go, I’m down, you know that I’m down