Here I am again; I am here again,
and if the wood and the wet pillow
in the other room, where you're sleeping
with memories of snake oil.

And this is my blood, and we're still
developing;
you're fast asleep; we're still
developing.

And snake oil is the
secret, sea-bound like
a slow, steady volcano,
and sometimes it burns sweet
and sometimes,
it can burn a hole
right through you.

But we withhold our hearts when we
make phone calls.
And this train is moving too fast
to jump off;
I hold, I hold on.

Well, maybe I don't know
the first thing about myself,
But I am trying really hard to,
grab this coat and not give up;
And it's true that when I
think about my future I go blank;
You are looking at me
like you got something you could tell me.

Well, by all means, by all, by all means
By all means, by all, by all means.

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