i can't write, i can't sleep
i can't think of a way to say what i feel
i can't move, i can't blink
i can't think of a thought for the thought of me stealing 
it
i can't ever breathe original air

moves like a neon avalanche
on a pastel mountain and i come so slowly
when i come please have me

paper pilot on a head on collision, routine position
mark out the plot
map written in fiction
don't know how to function

please take my hand and hold it just like a lion would
and i'll pull out your tongue
and burn it just like the weather could
please take my hand and hold it just like a lion would
and i will pull out your tongue
and burn it just like the weather could

moves like a neon avalanche
on a pastel mountain and i come so slowly
when i come 
when i come please have me
please have me