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Aboard a craft bereft of oar
I rowed upstream to find lenore
Abducted by a bandit or
A king from some forgotten war
And mindful of his larval craze
The rhinotropic micro-gaze
Ignored it and to my amazement
Rode to paris in twelve days
This is the work of the guelah papyrus
Stranded for a moment on the ocean of osyrus
Absorbing all she can for every member of her clan
Expanding exponentially like some recursive virus
She take me on, I never fail
To ride on the redundant rail
’cause when I know she’s switched a track
There’s always one to take me back
And through the bedroom door intrude
A fretful frown and spoil the mood
’cause though I never really stand that tall
She tilt my frame, she watch me fall
[guelah (the fly)]
So maybe I could be a fly
And feed arachnid as I die
And view the ritual from within
The silken tunnel that they spin
And through the bedroom door intrude
A fretful frown and spoil the mood
’cause though I never really stand that tall
She tilt my frame, she watch me fall
Read more lyrics about / on: paris, fly, war, work, dying
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Lyrics: Phish
