Phone Machine

So just hide under the family tree

You can be my bride, cover yourself in cream

She's gonna turn away, so throw her in the sea

And I’ll take your side when you got no phone machine

Shooting birds through a sewn, red, red memory

Fly towards being a documental freak

Squint her eyes to see she’s somebody like me

And I’ll take your side when you got no phone machine

Shoot your birds, take your pain

Shoot your birds, take your pain

So just hide under your family tree

You can be my bride, cover yourself in cream

She's gonna turn away, so picture her in the sea

And I'll take your side when you got no phone machine

Shoot your birds, take your pain

Shoot your birds, take your pain