Paroles: Neon Indian. Psychic Chasms. Terminally Chill.

Just asleep she?s been waiting to creep for a long time
Friendly eyes so small they rise from the waist line
In dreams came callipygous things to my bedside
And shrimped so she?s pullin the plugs to the outside

Like the days when lovesick haze chemical fried
Lock your face point to minimum waits friends to decide
Mostly nights when your perfumes hide to revive
On all my soup we caught in the tide