Talking on the phone again
She can't come here
If I jump the gun again
She won't come near my personal sphere
Something's stuck in my eye!
I don't mind, pay no mind
Eight month's time, two thirds east, then you're there
Don't be scared
You where to find us back at home, punch the code
We're in the garage, playing, writing songs
We may be strangers, but that's okay
My mother used to say
I've a gift in those ways
Shimmering cup waiting for us
Relatively unknown
Past the grove where redwoods grown
Far away from farms and gnomes
There exists a parchment tome
Recites to use a pleasant tone