By the time I filter down to you
A finger for an invitation
Too sane to find the feel
Cotton blood, a j**elry box
The last to leave, the last to come
The elevator waits to take you down
She throws a prayer you'll never catch
And I'm not holding on
Baby's in the engine room alright
Got the trap door by the feathers
Dressing for your date with the dumb anyway
Drunken sailor
Ripe heart attack station
Sharp as pastry
Now for the baby to find