There's a place that you can go,

a state of mind.

Where you scrape the ultimate supreme,

marking ink in the lobes of you brain.

 

Spun by emotion and directed by Hope,

you're walking the ocean and walking the sun,

going back to the house where you grew up.

Break the wind and pour into it's space,

you're desperately linked to life.

 

Us commons, we are only babies,

we sleep alone.

But this Hocus stuff that just Pok-us around...

too sore to sleep.

 

I can't roll out,

I can't fight his whisper cold lips.

Gather your eyelashes and stop looking at me,

Pluck that cig out, smash it between your toes.

That's not sand, that's cancer.

 

Can't speak my mind,

the same door swings in my mouth.

So scream it out,

and call it quits.

 

But look at the lightside,

when I cross the Grand Canyon, my feet touch

the bottom but my head stays on top.

I forget to remember that it's just a crack.

The sand is going to bury me and Rachel Weisz

will dig me up.

 

It's us whose got the numbers;

add them up, divide them here and there,

square root it till it's perfect.

 

Fresh face,

I found what I am standing for;

it's who walks in your life,

it's what ghosts are made for.

 

There's a place that you can go,

when it glows.

I can touch gold on my own,

I can see miracles.

This is cheesy but what other color is the sun?

So look at the moon, there's a man.

Oh, I didn't tell you who?