You’re channel surfing, searching, seizing the remote
I’m lost in the sleeves of your overcoat
The planet is unwinding, we are teleporting home
Television bender, lay your body in a moat
I’m floating, filling, flowering the empty pot
You’re spoiling the party on your friend’s dad’s yacht
The fruit has overripened, we are feasting on the rot
Find me in the plum pit, you within the apricot
At Fallen Leaf, collecting every flattened stone
You’re skipping, spinning, finishing the last of the Patrón
My hands on the piano, your hand gripping the remote
You’re feeding on the music, hear me dripping down your throat