You’re so good at spinning The string on the back of my neck We slept under the guise of the great Lake Angeles The might of my marrow The theater where all the dead Danced Danced Danced Danced As strong as a stone And as soft as the dip in my hand You’re so good at gleaning the pupil For old bits of glass It sits like a rainstorm When covered in what you thought passed The might of my marrow The theater where all the dead Danced Danced Danced Danced As strong as a stone And as soft as the dip in my hand