Slides By Songtext / Lyric

Glass of bourbon

a poorly rolled smoke

then it's time to go home

spend my whole night

chasing your eyes

two flakes of burning coal

outside words climb towards the moonshine

as if mining for gold

in the cool dark very big dark

'neath which i walk home



Stalagtites cling tightly to the tiny perforations stationed across the sky

blankets of clouds crowd around the congregation of sparkles then slides on by

slides on by

slides on by






The wind plays and paints an art nouveau swirl within your hair

you'll go to pains to make straight come the wide eyed morning

yet still the curtains still so strangely still it feels like a sheet of solid steel or porcelain

i like your skin so very fair

compared to so much within these four walls

the severed ties i can't repair

i'll weave in nets to catch our downfall

and so i say to you i swear

nowhere could ever seem so dreary

within your palm a lock of hair

is smouldering and rising up oh so lightly

snaking upwards

coiling along the ceiling

rebuild our cynicism there abreast

to all my mighty misty misplaced feelings



From my paper mache crown down to the skin beneath my toes

from my paper mache crown down to the skin beneath my toes i grow inwards

snaking upwards

coiling along the ceiling

snaking upwards

coiling along my ceiling



Glass of bourbon

a poorly rolled smoke

then its time to go home

spend my whole night

chasing your eyes

two flakes of burning coal

outside words climb towards the moon shine

as if mining for gold

in the cool dark very big dark

'neath which i walk home

slides on by

slides on by