Kill Me. The King

Kill Me. The King - Portugal. The Man

Basking briefly in this

Overeating

Indulgence of insides

But I fear

He's lower than before

Though he's stronger

Than he looks

He's made of feathers

Mixed with oil

And small servings

Of hands and feet

Up so high

How do they flutter

So damn

How do they flutter

So damn

Up so high

How do they flutter

So damn

How do they flutter

So damn

Now begin the search

That hails you home

I think I lost my means

He said with his face

In the cup

Desperate times

Make for desperate people

Desperate times

Make for desperate people

Up so high

How do they flutter

So damn

How do they flutter

So damn

Up so high

How do they flutter

So damn

How do they flutter

So damn