Behind the Sea - Panic! At The Disco

A daydream spills from my corked head

Breaks free of my wooden neck

Left to nod over sleeping waves

Like bobbing bait for bathing cod

Floating flocks of candled swans

Slowly drift across wax ponds

The men all played along to marching drums

And, boy, did they have fun, behind the sea

They sang, (Hey!) so our matching legs are marching clocks

And we’re all too small to talk to God

Yes, we’re all too smart to talk to God

Toast the fine folks casting silver crumbs

To us from the dock

Jinxed things ringing as they leak

Through tiny cracks in the boardwalk

Scarecrow, now it’s time to hatch

Sprouting suns and ageless daughters

Don’t you know, don’t you know

That those watermelon smiles

Just can’t ripen underwater?

Just can’t ripen underwater?

The men all played along to marching drums

And, boy, did they have fun, behind the sea

They sang, (Hey!)

So our matching legs are marching clocks

And we’re all too small to talk to God

Yeah, we’re all too smart to talk to God

Oh, we’re all too smart to talk to God

Oh, legs of wood waves

Waves of wooden legs (Yeah!)

Waves of wooden legs

Legs of wood waves

Waves of wooden legs

Waves of wooden legs

Legs of wood waves

Waves of wooden legs

Waves of wooden legs

Legs of wood waves

Waves of wooden legs

Waves of wooden legs

So close…