either turn it up or turn if off
give me nonsense, give me meaning,
but I can't stand this in-betweening
and this circling is never gonna stop
though you return exactly where you left,
it's faster if you're on the outside

Sunday morning at the water park
they take our tickets at the gate and
turn us out into the humid day
we sit and watch the rides just starting up
and see the fountains spring to life,
and give our bodies to the concrete river

it's ignorance that brings us to the top
so suddenly just looking down
at the people on the ground and there's just
time to squeeze your hand before we drop
and the shouts and all the water 'round
drown out your shaky voice as you say

“why do we do this to ourselves?
there must be something comforting
about the way we feel
when panic and our love are circling.”


breathless, laughing, running from the spot
we burn the day away just playing
in the temple of our lost Decembers
evening comes, it's finally cooling off
the people leave into the darkness,
and the silence everywhere descending

either turn it up or take it off
no, don't go away, I'm here,
I just sink into this despair sometimes
I wore it well, but now it's old and frayed
if I can change my mood just like my clothes,
we'll fit me for a whole new wardrobe

“why do we do this to ourselves?
there must be something comforting
about the way we feel
when panic and our love are circling.”

our time was short,
our time had just begun
and now it's past and over,
just some fragment of a summer
but it's always sunny there inside the park
and that momentary danger
keeps us waiting for the next adventure