She's invoking the sign of the sickle moon Cut my mammal brain in two I admire the power at her command All snakes under the shovel head An age of grey matter over mind Now she's clothed in the sun With the moon at her feet She hates the world that's failed to see Making time we abandon our reserve Pretend she is an orb weaver Relics found in the dust of the aftermath Some kinds of things you cut in half Relics found in the dust of the aftermath Some kinds of pills you cut in half See you in the storm shelter counting down Cover my eyes with you, black out See you in the storm shelter counting down Cover my eyes with you, black out Either tied to the tracks Or burned at the stake Our coins could not derail the train When it feels like we've walked Through a thousand doors Been peeling ourselves off the floor