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In the field of my mind
I dance among the turnips
And look into the sun
To swallow it whole

I cook myself a new life
With an extra set of eyes
And the wooden woman calls me
As only she knows how

I can feel it all from here
Every flavor in the rainbow
It doesn't make any sense
That's the point - don't you see?

Look into the fan
While the woman has her way
Breathe into the carpet
Said a purple plastic rain

And I can't tell you how to trim your
Fingernails to help you stop the Rain

The flower holds a secret
With such simple curves
Tears can stop a monster
If red is not as dry

I can taste it all right now
Every [Em]moon in the sky
It doesn't make any sense
Now can't you see why?

With a simple little movement
I'm told all I need to know
But you're taken by an olive
To watch the river flow

I could really use another
But you're naked instead
With pink and blue and purple
match to save my soul


from By The Time We're Through, released September 2, 2011
Written by Brian Baseggio


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The Pickpockets Chicago, Illinois

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