Maddie’s always moving. She’s flying down the aisles.   Got both hands in her pockets, trying to keep the balance mild.   Her motions like a movie, slicing constant air…   The wires are electrifying her phosphorescent hair.   I have seen the hunger, soaking through your shirt    Sunken eyes found alive but smashed under the dirt.   So lord give her one more set of hands...   For those dulling rings that I can barely stand.   I hope when I leave, she leaves them buried here,   and they don’t grow into the air.      Sing of soaking through me, on a kitchen chair.   Sing of all the savage tiny bites that blossomed tears.   The glass is always glowing, there’s vacancy out there,   but don’t you ride out very far; you’ll end up everywhere...   So slow…   Speed erodes…   The weight of bother on your body will fall down like snow.   Lord take this telephone in hand.   It’s lost the ring that I once couldn’t stand.   I hope when I leave, I leave it buried here...   And it doesn’t grow into the air…