The Shins
Spilt Needles (Alternate Version)
I've earned myself an impossible crime
I have to paint myself a hole and fall inside
It's far enough in sight and rhyme
I get to wear another dress and count in time
Oh, won't you do me the favor, man
Of forgiving my
My poly-morphing opinion here
Your vague outline
Find myself another burning gate
A pretty face, a vague idea I can't relate
This is what you get for pulling pins
Another hole inside the hole you're in
It's like I'm perched on the handlebars
Of a blind man's bike
No straws to grab, just the rushing wind...
On a rolling mind
They'll want you to decide
Eventually, it happens
Some gather on one side
With all their pearlys snapping
They close the basement door
That sets our teeth to chatter
You never saw it before
But now that hardly matters
You're old enough, boy
Too many summers you've enjoyed
So spin the wheel, we'll set you up
With some odd convictions
As you're finally golden, boy