Text: Silver Jews (The). Other. Self-Ignition.

Oh self-ignition
I can feel her suitcase sensing much
It was the wrong permission
Miss nineteen ninety ninety ninety nine nine nine nine
Charles James Sofa and a household truce
And her every Wednesday night you can count her grooves
I woke up in a house I could understand
The descendants of defendants were making demands

Generally thinking backwards
On the psychedelic promises God make to me in the dark
Some of these kids don't have words
They're as helpless as parakeets in a park
Couldn't believe it when I saw that you wrote
That a burning passenger shouldn't moo in a boat
If dreams are your body telling you its confused
Then I've got a dream I think you could use

All lakes encryption in the lawless rooms
Where you finally lost your health
I read the evening edition and the pumpkin on the porch is trying to heal itself
I don't like magic and I don't like tricks
Havin' a hell of a time believin' we exist
The mail man dreams he's Paul Revere
He wants the whole town to buy him a beer

And I have to remember that your not wanting me
Doesn't make me any less here