Tired stars navigate the tiny storms teeming on the far shores of your waist Tired of waiting for my stationary third world to rotate So you filled it with oxygen and watched as it floated away. How could you do that to me? How could you do that to me? I start to relate as the meridians trace Lines straight up through your face And I orbit around your personal space Tunnel out through your psychology to escape (How could you do that to me? How could you do that to me?) These are the sirens having come to test your hope Saying "Oh, we've sewn stones in your throat, Thrown you overboard the boat... now float."