One

Of thesis of mind, in your shiny new parasite
Her legs are sublime, I'm wrapped up around my head
Lay in comfort, pressed against my face
Strung up, high out in my only space

Oh Jesus, well you'd make me work my due
I'm sailing my way, down your fancy little country club
Be a saint and put me on your list
And let me bend and flex you round my wrist

I'm shaded, from any invading light
I'm jaded, from any remaining right
To use my luck and have it thrown away
To tip your buck and have my games away

If you'd like to hear it as a song: www.myspace.com/magictentacles