the red of my knuckles from hitting the wall
every night in my sleep where love rather than science
tells me this is how its been for the past thousand years
"we've lived this before you know"
i know, i know, i know
"you haven't lived yet, you know"
punch to the pipes underneath and through
then climb in and disappear in the steam
as though it weren't so much to ask for alchemy
as though it weren't so much to ask for heat
i know it's too much to ask
i know it's too much.