Kiersty's mind's blown In her room she knows its June but knows not why
Kiersty's mind blows slow flute swoons, she knows the tunes but knows not
where from In a time zone with no noon she hops a spoon and sleds to water In
the snocone-clod, wet tomb she shakes her broom-blond hair like God then
Well, she can't decide but her body says it'll make her make her mind up
Kiersty's spine grows to the moon; her threaded loom of skin: the sky's shell
Kiersty's smile snows teeth like tombs She rents three rooms in heaven hotel But
she can't decide so her body says it'll make her make her mind up Kiersty's
mind's blown In her room she knows its June so what's to say? Kiersty dies
home sleeps till noon its summer soon, so what's the day? Well, she can't decide