live press on oil shine

its’ wet

you’re underneath the carpet

it floats and it changes the eye

sitting here still thinking of

I heard, you heard, the seabed

now what can I do

this is when the waves still turn

it was you i think I ask now

what else burns

stream flow with a trickled energy it is

but I’m not sure if the blokes are broke

yellow is the eye of the cat that lays

but for you the lights dance

I’m leaving today

fill all of the wooden beam

dancing to mozart,

expressing a scene thats not meant to be silly with a mask