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Little Red Lung
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Rare Bird
A glass airplane, circles over every jaw looking up
Fear of a name, cursive in the porous spots
And if you are a rare bird, build me into what you need
These wings, could skin the surface of a hundred knees
We are, plummeting down aboard this raging star
The heir to close calls, pet names and punctuation
False so often, painted red on every wall
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Your bones so thin, a hairline fracture in the wind
A heart full of butter knives and paper bricks
And if you are a rare bird, build me into what you need
These wings, could skin the surface of a hundred knees
Sharp feet, propellers restless and two tons of meat
We are, plummeting down aboard this raging star
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