honey the sound's with me
i'm still sitting around
there's favor in the temper you know
there's the sounds and the djinns and hipsters
coming from the attic window
in a poor suburban blow
i think you're out of your mind
i think you're out of your mind
i think you're out of your mind
i think you're out of your mind
baby you make me write good lines
and i put them after your good lines
i would think there would be some more time
for more and more stuffs coming on now
and i tattoed your birth face on my arm
and i'm still hanging on to it
you can sit there on the pier sometimes
and listen to my ever ready complaints
i think you're out of your mind
i think you're out of your mind
i think you're out of your mind sometimes
and i think you're out of your mind
going down, over the city...
is a big and a slow sun
splitting off on the space between roof tops
time is still reserved for you and i
yeah time is still reserved for you and i
i think you're out of your mind