She’s only laughing every night
She’s only haunted by a sea horse
She’s only troubled by the minnows and shills in cracks yet filled

She don’t know what to do with her passion
She don’t know what to do with her passion

She’s only laughing every night
Check out the weasel in the tree top
Spoke tales of vanishing, a crown, double galaxy, Major Phil

She don’t want - know what Joan of Arc felt
Sea foam baby, sings to the Catskills

In a sense we don’t see her
When I gotta go there’s always room for none
In a safe unmarked theatre
Tickets up for sale there’s always shows for none

She’s only laughing every night
Check out the halogen in Amherst
A tidal wave of coming films, sketches scribbled on a napkin spill

She don’t know what to do with her passion
She don’t know what to do with her passion
She don’t know what to do with her passion
She don’t know what to do with her passion