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    There's a powdered sun dripping through a porthole
    In a set design
    Can you read your name
    It's been so long since we bloomed from the inside
    So where have you been since you fell off the flat edge
    Of a world under nothing sky
    You've been lying rye
    They claim men you dance under the moonlight
    Do what you think is the sum
    Buts it a flesh and blood of a
    Dismembered gone assembly
    In four thousands of your years

    Voice 1: You felt like history in your thighs
    Voice 2: You get four red candles

    Voice 2: On the table with your penis I arise
    Voice 1: You're the one that makes me realize

    Voice 1: With water flowing through to tomorrow
    Voice 2: Glued to your addiction
    Voice 1: Apples and cake must have been your mistake
    Voice 2: Had to force you to drink your gallon of wine
    Voice 2: but the smile you send in my direction
    Voice 1: You little duck house

    Voice 1: Makes me feel like I'm alive

    Voice 1: You're hidden by your wooden legs
    Voice 2: You're my kind, You're my kind

    Voice 2: You always make me feel like a moon in my life

    Voice 1: Staring down at the world's head, all the time

    Voice 2: It always makes me feel good to know you're alive, you're wrapping your

    Voice 1: Down by the whirlpool, I finally realized you must have built
    in your snake, your little duck house

    Voice 1: I've been insane well the time is slow

    Voice 2: I've been to a society whith you can't see yourself and you can't
    feel sunshine

    Voice 2: And if you see me roaming the hillside won't you come along? It's
    a hard road to the top of yourself. You'll always be alone.

    Voice 1: The Pope don't matter when the pawn is your sea, don't you agree?

    Voice 2: I like you in my love, feels good just to know I can love
    someone like you. They'll make it hard for you choose. I can understand but
    when you see creation coming you close your eyes. And To you I'm sure it's no
    surprise that I could be one of the dead. Thank god my underwear's full of
    lead without you. Without you.

    Voice 1: When you're around I'm wound around your thumb. You wanna be numb
    inside the gun. All your different lights are one big fight against the
    baby inside that you've mistaken for pain.

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    Todas as letras de John Frusciante

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