Winged/Wicked Things - Sunset Rubdown, Spencer Krug

Well I say «It's just smoke»

So you say «It's the hair of ghosts»

So I say «it's the white hair of Poseidon Ebbing in the tide in some dead sea»

So you say «It's some Shroud of Turin and the son wore it white and the earth

wore it thin or the son wore it white and his faith wore it thin!»

Unraveling heavenward

Oh it saddled two tiny birds

Or other such winged things

Either way they are struggling

Either way they are miniature

And either way they’re invisible

But either way they’re confused as hell would have them

La-da-da-da-da-da-da-da

And the pattern of flight is chaotic and blind

But it’s right cause chaos is yours and it’s mine

And chaos is luck, and like love, and love blind

Ba-da-da-ba-da-da-ba-da-da-oh

Oh, the pattern of flight is chaotic and blind

but it’s right cause chaos is yours and chaos is mine, mine, mine, mine

And chaos is love and they say love is blind but they’re subject to hate us

Just like the rest of us

Oh but just like the rest of us

They need the rest of us to stay alive

So that’s not where confusion lies

That’s not where allusions to the fact that the truth is just smoke in your eyes

It does lie, oh confusion lies in which other wicked thing to lie with

Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

Confusion lies in which other wicked thing to lie with

Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

And if chaos is yours and chaos is mine

And chaos is love and they say love is blind

So I say, «Oh I see now, it’s just smoke»

So I say, «Oh I see now, it’s just smoke»

Oh I say, «Oh I see now, it’s just smoke»

Oh I say, «Oh I see now, it’s just smoke»