Testo: Wilco. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. Radio Cure.

Cheer up, honey I hope you can
There is something wrong with me
My mind is filled with silvery stars
Honey, kisses, clouds of fluff
Shoulders shrugging off

Cheer up, honey, I hope you can
There is something wrong with me
My mind is filled with radio cures
Electronic surgical words

Picking apples for the kings and queens of things I've never seen

Oh, distance has no way of making love understandable

Cheer up, honey I hope you can
There is something wrong with me
My mind is filled with silvery stars
Honey, kisses, clouds of fluff

Picking apples for the kings and queens of things I've never seen

Oh, distance has no way of making love understandable
Oh, distance has no way of making love understandable
Oh, distance has no way of making love understandable
Oh, distance has no way of making love understandable

Cheer up, honey I hope you can