It's the one that everybody knows, everybody knows
Through the waves, the waves of hay and straw
And this, this is how it goes
An armchair calls to you
These looms that weave apocrypha
Yeah, this armchair calls to you
Awkward pause, the fatal flaw
As if you lack the proper chemicals to know, oh
The way it felt the last time you let yourself fall this low
And I was a cartographer
Fifty-five and three-eighths, time
The song that silence sings
As ancient sea slugs begin to crawl
The ebb just like the flow
I sang the song that silence brings
Time is a crooked bow
Until gravity feels sorry for you and lets you go
Time's a crooked bow, oh, ooh
Time, it's a crooked bow
Time you need to learn to love
Of the tangles in your hair
Time's a crooked bow
They're hanging from a strand
Time, time it's a crooked bow
With epoxy and a pair of pliers
This dark and empty rooms were full
Fifty-five and three-eighths years later
And it says that someday we'll get back at them all
It didn't cross your mind at all, hey
Of incandescent hands
You didn't write, you didn't call
Grab hold of your bootstraps and pull like hell
You couldn't feel a thing at all
Through the ragweed and barbed wire, oh
At the bottom of this gigantic crater
