cradling the softest, warmest part of you in my hand

feels like a little baby bird fallen from the nest

i think that your body is something i understand

i think that i'm happy, i think that i'm blessed



i've got a lack of inhibition

i've got a loss of perspective

i've had a little bit to drink

and it's making me think

that i can jump ship and swim

that the ocean will hold me

that there's got to be more

than this boat i'm in



'cuz they can call me crazy if i fail

all the chance that i need

is one-in-a-million

and they can call me brilliant

if i succeed

gravity is nothing to me, moving at the speed of sound

i'm just going to get my feet wet

until i drown



and i teeter between tired

and really, really tired

im wiped and im wired but i guess its just as well

because i built my own empire

out of car tires and chicken wire

and i'm queen of my own compost heap

and i'm getting used to the smell



and i've got a lack of information

but i got a little revelation

and i'm climbing up on the railing

trying not to look down

i'm going to do my best swan dive

in the shark-infested waters

i'm gonna pull out my tampon

and start splashing around



'cuz i don't care if they eat me alive

i've got better thing to do than survive

i've got a memory of your warm skin in my hand

and i've got a vision of blue sky and dry land



i'm cradling the hardest, heaviest part of me in my hand

the ship is pitching and heaving, my limbs are bobbing and weaving

and i think this is what i understand

i just need a little vaccination for my far-away vacation

i'm going to go ahead boldly because a little bird told me

that jumping is easy, that falling is fun

up until you hit the sidewalk, shivering, stunned



and they can call me crazy if i fail

all the chance that i need

is one-in-a-million

and they can call me brilliant

if i succeed

gravity is nothing to me

moving at the speed of sound

i'm just gonna get my feet wet

until i drown