yours

"bury me deep in the sand,"
Say the shopping carts rusting on the east river
Longing for a quiet death

Here is my hand
Trace my lifeline with your finger 
Until we collapse in the sand
We all have a plan
What's yours?

Write me a screenplay
Design me a tattoo of skylines and tell them
I won't be in today
For I've gone to fall on my face
To hail me some taxis 
And to scatter roller-bladers all over the place
We all have a plan
What's yours?

Yes, I've gone to fall on my face
To eat watermelon on the steps of the dakota
And to lay on our stomachs killing saturdays
This is my plan
What's yours?

Here is my hand
Where's yours?

You are my plan
What's yours?

Words and music by michael johnson
© 1999 zubsongs, ltd.