Never got to say goodbye
But I'd like to formally this time
To the flat corona in my hand
And the chair that's not supposed to recline
I read books I would have never read before
I don't worry quite as often anymore
The world's so pretty from this sleeping bag upon the floor
Solo I don't know what I'll do
iI feel like one man on a bicycle that's built for two
When I die I want to wake up in the arthaus
When I die I want to wake up in the arthaus
When I die I want to wake up in the arthaus
With someone of my own
Trace winding paths through forests rising from my scalp
Describe happy lives before us
And hush my freaking out
Like through glimmering grill heat
Warped and undulating
If i maybe didn't watch so much tv
Then perhaps you'd not evaporate from me
Still choking on recycled heat
United limbs eventually
So much for a sleeping aid
Paved steps and dusty stained hardwood someday
When I die I want to wake up in the arthaus
When I die I want to wake up in the arthaus
Wanna wake up in the guest bed of the arthaus
With someone of my own
With someone of my own
With someone of my own
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