(ripe 1/25/01) She sees herself in little black lines This is not meant to be She finds herself in little black words when her world's gone out to sea She's a fever I don't want to avoid It seems like she will still be standing when the world's destroyed and we could talk for hours yeah we could talk for hours in little black lines There's a heart here with a hole in the middle ripe and ready for your poison Skin's a patterned fever she's a fever and you're a fever I don't wanna avoid. She reads between all enemy lines just to see what she can see On the street she serves up her little black heart Says 'The world thinks out loud, and then there's me.' But the pretty girls write all over the hands of their boys We stand apart while the world's destroyed and we talk for hours yeah we talk for hours going over the little black lines Read between all the lines; little colorful lines Oh, black ley lines; my skin's on fire; you're telling me to run but i can't leave cuz it's down to me, and there's singing to be done Oh, pretty girls write prophecies all over the hands of their boys But we stand apart while our lovely blue world is destroyed and we talk for hours yeah we talk for hours going over the little black lines. There's a heart here inked over with the lines of learning your patterned skin's a fever and you're a fever I don't wanna avoid.