Written by Ryan Walsh, © 2007 Reverse The Tape Decks (ASCAP)

a blizzard
a mallard
a stillborn Chinese baby speaking backwards
my peephole
in the cabin
keep an eye on loggers preparing for battle
and textbooks glow like they know where we're going
but it's just a guess they planted in the pages
and flags unfurl like they know why we're sewing
a certain kind of stars into the fabric

can't keep topping my count's bestsellers
pieced together in damp dark cellars
flipped out fury
it's a wigged out wish
so creep creep crawl your way into the heartland
when the clocks explode
we'll sing a crooked path back to our home

there is no context for this progress
a village epidemic reaches congress
an idea or a light bulb
smashed on concrete outside of the nightclub
a cat with a windchime skeleton
but it's not like he's in charge of city planning
greet the deep sea diver as he dives within
he hides secrets behind all of the paneling

we will find him before
the party resumes
treating cape houses like Egyptian tombs
tricked out tremors in my nervous system
don't sink sink sink sink sink into the pavement
when the clocks explode
we'll sing a crooked path back to our home

wave backwards to Massachusetts
we'll sing a crooked path back to our home