Spilt Needles

I've done myself an impossible crime Had to paint myself a hole And fall inside If it's far enough in sight and rhyme I get to wear another dress And count in time Oh, won't you do me the favor, man Of a giving mind A polymorphing opinion here And your vague outline Find myself another burning gate A pretty face, a vague idea I can't relate And this is get what you get for pulling pins Out of the hole Inside the hole you're in It's like I'm perched on the handle bars Of a blind man's bike No straws to grab, just the rushing wind On the rolling mind They want you to decide Eventually, it happens Some gather on one side With all their pearly snapping They close the basement door It sets our teeth to chatter You never saw it before But now that hardly matters You're old enough, boy Too many summers you've enjoyed So spin the wheel We'll set you up with some odd convictions Because you're finally golden, boy It's like I'm perched on the handle bars Of a blind man's bike No straws to grab, just the rushing wind On the rolling mind --- Spilt Needles - The Shins