Text: Flaming Lips. Transmissions From The Satellite Heart. Moth In The Incubator.

Something in you, it jitters like a moth
And I see that your arms are out to God
And oh, they kill you when they talk
Makes a mountain peak seem little when it's not

Your incubator is so tight
Your incubator is so tight
I've been born before, I'm pretty used to it
Brain dead is always all there is

So embryonic it's all right
So embryonic it's all right
I've been born before, I'm gettin' used to it
Brain dead is how it always ends