I trip all over myself
Choose our untied hands to bind
You go to sleep. I go to sleep.
Our dreams meet for French mocha; all cloudy Sal Boca.
Winding, reeling, fowl-mouthed feelings
Give me a chance and I would throw your mine a grenade.

You got a body that’s made for diamonds
That’s why I rock you until my credit’s gone
You go to sleep. I go to sleep.
Our dreams meet for a book club; C.S. Lewis and grub.
Winding, reeling, fowl-mouthed feelings
Give me a chance and I would throw your mine a grenade.

You go to sleep. I go to sleep.
Our dreams meet over coffee; black coffee.
Winding, reeling, fowl-mouthed feelings
Give me a chance and I would throw your mine a grenade.