Satellites - Parts & Labor

Sometimes I get the feeling that this really never was my home

A 1957 kind of heaven sent remote control

A boring bird a bitter word a re-recurring picture show

We watch together tracking weather barely tethered from below

We hover high an open eye to always see just where we are

The subdivisions subdividing and colliding bare their scars

A washing dish a ripping stitch nothing is missing no one’s far

Wind up cloud wind up sky

Sees the rain turn to snow

Sees the rain turn to snow again

There is no more to know here

There is nothing more to know here

Our wings are urgently diverging feeling set upon the sun

Our welded skeletons are relatively ready to be gone

The cities merge the lights converge the buzzing blurs into a single sigh

Wind up cloud wind up sky

Sees the rain turn to snow

Sees the rain turn to snow again

There is no more to know here

There is nothing more to know here

See the satellite, See the satellite

See the satellite, See the satellite seceding

See the satellite, See the satellite

See the satellite, See the satellite seceding

Here in the headlights, Here in the headlights

Here in the headlights, Here in the headlights

At a haunted height, At a haunted height

At a haunted height, At a haunted height

We roll our eyes back up into our heads