Lyrics:

Myla Goldberg sets a steady hand upon her brow

Myla Goldberg hangs a crooked foor all upside down

It comes around it comes around it comes around it comes around



Pretty hands do pretty things when pretty times arise

Seraphim in seaweed swim where stick-limbed Myla lies

It comes around it comes around it comes around it comes around



Still now you're waiting to grow

Inside you're old

Sew wings to your pigeon toes

Put paper to pen and spell out Eliza



We begin with sticky shins, make sticky then our shoes

Shoes beget to clothes and hat 'til sticky's sticking too

Finiculi, finicula, finicule, finicula



Listen in as shin-kicked Jim relates his story sad

About a boy who kicked until his shins were all but rubber bands

But now I know New York I need New York I know I need unique New York