| I come to you all dressed in sound | |
| With bluebirds stripping wires to the ground | |
| Connected to a time machine | |
| That will not power down | |
| Set the crosshairs back on one | |
| You said we'd only die here in a sun | |
| The way your headstone shines | |
| I only wish that it was mine | |
| So set the crosshairs back on one | |
| And nail the loop that brings the second run | |
| Passed the wished-on charms | |
| And through the lens back to your living arms | |
| This time machine won't power down and this time machine won't power down | |
| And still the crosshairs rest on one | |
| And still you rest there in the morning sun | |
| And still I fumble through the pages of constructions on the ride | |
| I like the blown-out sound you've found | |
| I like the way it feels here coming down | |
| The way your headstone shines | |
| I only wish that it was mine |
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