I could see your figure
It was near, but so far away
And it slid into the ocean
Now in a golden state
You can place your right hand
Upon my sleeping head
And we can twist like two vines
But I wish I were dead
Didion wrote me
Stories about the waves
She set fire to the ocean
Let the city burn for days
You can place your right hand
Upon my sleeping head
And we can twist like two vines
But I wish I were dead
If we had a quarrel
And you fell from a great height
I'd carry your big bones
And you'd be my dead wife
You can place your right hand
Upon my sleeping head
And we can twist like two vines
But I wish I were dead
