She’s only laughing every night She’s only haunted by a sea horse She’s only troubled by the minnows and shills in cracks yet filled She don’t know what to do with her passion She don’t know what to do with her passion She’s only laughing every night Check out the weasel in the tree top Spoke tales of vanishing, a crown, double galaxy, Major Phil She don’t want - know what Joan of Arc felt Sea foam baby, sings to the Catskills In a sense we don’t see her When I gotta go there’s always room for none In a safe unmarked theatre Tickets up for sale there’s always shows for none She’s only laughing every night Check out the halogen in Amherst A tidal wave of coming films, sketches scribbled on a napkin spill She don’t know what to do with her passion She don’t know what to do with her passion She don’t know what to do with her passion She don’t know what to do with her passion