we set out across country the first perfect fit and i
so far removed from expectation, the desert hardly
harbored life
not much coming through, eyes slit face to the light
when we finally fired the engine or when the engine
finally died
laying flat across the desert, the perfect fit was left
to dry
the hands stopped moving from just waiting
no, you couldn't be alive
the final hitch, the great discovery, to hold your hands
you'd have to lie
i swear i never was that easy, the perfect fit was left
to dry
i bet there's not that much left of you
no, you couldn't be alive
from here there's only faint emulsion
no, you couldn't be alive
not as great as saying nothing talking to myself
