982

He knew what would satisfy him
And he died. There's a luna moth
Thinking up through the river
Counting the times that we swore
And lied, finger by the side
Of the nose, alphabet blinking
Its wing lights at 30,000 feet,
Three-hundred-ten miles of blanket
And I'm still feeling cold,
Come closer and give me
Something to shiver about. We need
To get out more, get out
While the crowd can still sing along,
Verse chorus verse.