I'm the band in a show bout a man holding hands with his wife
On a therapist couch with his face to the crowd after fucking around countless nights
And there's this one episode, close-up cameras were showing him crying
His red head and his red eyes
I'm the band in a show bout a boy being buried alive
From his head to his toes by a criminal but with a sensitive soul with a set of raccoon eyes
And there's this scene in the show when a hustler knows he's gonna die
The ground opens and he climbs inside
And as he speaks his last line, a thought falls from his mind and I pick it up and write it through the tv
Oh, oh
Is there a hand to take hold of the scene?
I'm a man in a dream and they're dancing in front of my eyes
Is the queen informed of the flaws with the eyes all got odd and ruppled into her spine
She rises up like a yawn, grips my heart like a claw, splits apart like a jaw, like an eye
And she asks me with a sigh
We were so far from right
We were losing the fight
We were letting the light weaken it's beam
Oh, oh
Is there a hand to take hold of the scene?
I wanted to smile like a glistening shot of a kiss that's as sharp as a knife
The day expires
In the dry, cracked, trembling lips God saw fit to put his kiss inside
I lift them up to you, I'd like to bear witness to our life that is fine and is filling the cryingest eyes
Gracing each face that is making the waste that is broken as one's fairly fly
Love that is innocent, of that old covetest, cancerous vibe
And a beauty that annihilates all life
Like it's lived in these nights, holding your hatred tight
Like a sign that you're right and you're strong
When all the doors are shut tight, I will dream you tonight
And my dream will just sweep you along
When all the fires are fanned, we're shucking our plans
And we're too weak to stand on our two feet
Oh, oh
Is there a hand to take hold of this scene?
