Climb down from your balcony, my dear––
Get away from your burning house.
Climb down from the moths that are giving you fear,
Grab a hold of the amber bough.
Tiny mirrors reflect the light,
Counting numbers and studying lines.
The algorithm of your heart,
Solving the problem of who you are.
Looking for a broke down carousel,
Have a picnic on a grave.
Living in a Hollywood hotel––
Hanging curtains, escape the day.
Climb down from your balcony, my dear––
Get away from your burning house.
Climb down from the moths that are giving you fear,
Grab ahold of the amber bough.