Lyrics:

A love song to a very close friend of Conor who is now deceased. There is speculation about who it might be, but since Conor himself hasn’t made that knowledge public, there’s no need to go into it.
Poison oak, some boyhood bravery
When our telephone was a tin can on a string
And I fell asleep with you still talking to me

You said you weren't afraid to die

In polaroids, you were dressed in women's clothes
Were you made ashamed, why'd you lock them in a drawer?
Well, I don't think that I ever loved you more

Than when you turned away, when you slammed the door
When you stole a car and drove towards Mexico
And you wrote bad checks just to fill your arm
I was young enough, I still believed in war

Well, let the poets cry themselves to sleep
And all their tearful words would turn back into steam

But me, I'm a single cell, on a serpent's tongue
There's a muddy field where a garden was
And I'm glad you got away, but I'm still stuck out here
My clothes are soaking wet from your brother's tears

And I never thought this life was possible
You're the yellow bird that I've been waiting for

The end of paralysis, I was a statuette
Now I'm drunk as hell on a piano bench
And when I press the keys it all gets reversed
The sound of loneliness makes me happier