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Watch these awful devil things drinking belladonna tinctures. What made the sky so bright and lovely on the day they watched your brilliant mind decay? Will they be taking photos at your operation so their clicks and flashes upset your condition? But a little birdie told me ornithopters flap their wings like anybody and everybody wants a magic potion stashed away. What made the sky so bright and lovely on the day they watched your brilliant mind decay? Scalpels of obsidian! Drinking nightshade on our balcony looking over fighting swans! And as that poison settles in our guts will they be taking photos at your execution so their clicks and flashes make for flares and red eye but a little birdie told me ornithopters flap their wings because they can and everybody wants a place to hide and build a nest. What filled the sky with songs and zeppelins on the day they laid your birdie bride to rest? What made the moon so lame and gloomy on the night they took that birdie for a ride? What made her feathers turn to leather as the mourners cried and cried? Whatever will they say?
What will they say of your body? The apothecaries check their lists for bottles and drugs. And herbalists could never have predicted an anniversary like this. If it were all up to me I would call it overacting. If it were all up to me I would make a mess of it. Will they be taking photos at your execution so their clicks and flashbulbs make for flares and red eye but a little birdie told me ornithopters flap their wings because they can. When can this motor get started? What will they make with these berries? When does the nightshade kick in? What will they say of your body?
(Hypnotized, paralyzed, staring at that pair of eyes that pierce my soul. I lose control. Where am I supposed to go? You have those wings. Sew them to me so I can go where I'm supposed to be. When I leave here I'll bring a souvenir so babe, don't shed a tear. Hold my eyes. Hold my hand. Leave me a sign so I know where to land. When you call out to me and say: please come back to me, I pray! I'll fly back fast. I'll fly back home. So you will not die alone. But I was too late.)
I love a girl with a sense of adventure. I love a girl with a dynamite temper. I love a girl with a scar and a car and a dress that matches the both of them. I love a girl with a string of a kite on her finger wrapped tighter than death feeling lighter than air. I've seen her sew wings while singing me songs so throaty and gaudy. Singing me songs about faraway places and faces while rocking to sleep in my grandmother's chair. I'll wake her when setting my eyes on the west and saying: I'm sorry sugar it's cold oh honey honey it's too cold. It's so cold in the upper atmosphere, my dear, what will they say of your body?
Once I heard it I just couldn't believe what you're going to do to me and you can take that to the bank. I was born on a house cusp and I left everything in the Old Elm City, a trail of dead feathers to St. Louis. If you could only flap those wings… How does a phantom make friends in the night with a poltergeist? It doesn't make much sense to me. I never remember the last defeat. It won't take much to change your mind. You couldn't wait to tap your feet. I couldn't wait to say goodbye. You know the clock is ticking and you know you want to make it to the big dance baby baby. We are goblins, witches, vampires and we will cut you to pieces right here right now. You should be thinking of your wife. Will her bones make their way to the moon? But you have demons in your eyes, a nervous chatter in your teeth. If you could only flap those wings you'd fly away from these awful devil things. Take some pictures while we're having our fun. I've got a whole lot riding on this one. I was born on a house cusp and I left every thing in the Old Elm City. Can we make this our last ride? This rollercoaster is making me sick. If you could only flap those wings you'd fly away from these awful devil things. La-da-da ba-da-da da-da-dum.