Behind this gold picket fence
Lies a whole institute
Where wallpaper painters scrape
And scarecrows swell waterlogged,
Now I got dead time on my hands
For feeding my animals,

All of this time on my hands
So far has gone to feeding my animals

On this dark kissed day
The light shines through only you
Or is it because your silhouette is your frame Like an empty window,
Now I got cold time up my sleeve,
I'm feeling destitute,

All of this time on my hands
So far has gone to feeding my animals

I feel root vegetable!
Am I dead?
Or buried alive?
I sleep warm velvet wand,
Buy the night,
I'm selling the sun,
My skin feels silky smooth
Now I'm buried in mud

All of this time on my hands
So far has gone to feeding my animals,
All of that time I was dead,
Limbless in bed, sedated experiment

Na, na, na, na

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): DANIEL JOHNS, PAUL MAC