Under My Covers
Under my covers
Under my covers
I'm in the covers
With something to hide
Longing, the splinter
Brittle and sly
Make for the exit
With hardly a sigh
With hardly a sigh
We live in the country
Farmer and wife
A buck on the mantle
A dog in the yard
It sneaks up behind you
It tickles your sides
What was the intention
A gift or a bribe
A gift or a bribe
Yeah I know a place where the summer is warm
It cherishes us and our friends are abound
But something has pulled on my string is gone taut
The jewel will not wait to be found, woah
Stolen for ransom
Stolen for blood
Stolen for hunger
Stolen for fun
You do what you're able
You do what you must
Or is this compulsion
The breeze or the gust
The breeze or the gust
An upright piano
A fender and slide
The bell of a cymbal
The hum of the sine
The thrill of creation
The passing of time
The gain of perspective
The miracle of sight
The miracle of sight
The miracle
Shot through a canon like some pig iron ball
Tossed on the bed in a dockside hotel
So come on you people, you baffle the gods
Lust to extremes and impassion the false
And who let the children go run in the aisles
The spirit is aching to play, woah
Under my covers
I'm in the covers
With something to hide
Longing, the splinter
Brittle and sly
Make for the exit
With hardly a sigh
With hardly a sigh
We live in the country
Farmer and wife
A buck on the mantle
A dog in the yard
It sneaks up behind you
It tickles your sides
What was the intention
A gift or a bribe
A gift or a bribe
Yeah I know a place where the summer is warm
It cherishes us and our friends are abound
But something has pulled on my string is gone taut
The jewel will not wait to be found, woah
Stolen for ransom
Stolen for blood
Stolen for hunger
Stolen for fun
You do what you're able
You do what you must
Or is this compulsion
The breeze or the gust
The breeze or the gust
An upright piano
A fender and slide
The bell of a cymbal
The hum of the sine
The thrill of creation
The passing of time
The gain of perspective
The miracle of sight
The miracle of sight
The miracle
Shot through a canon like some pig iron ball
Tossed on the bed in a dockside hotel
So come on you people, you baffle the gods
Lust to extremes and impassion the false
And who let the children go run in the aisles
The spirit is aching to play, woah
Credits
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