Verse I

Waiting for the details to come back
Slices of old events rearranged to form a circle
In a square
We're evading this appointment to define
The geometry makes it hard to judge

Verse II

Wade a little deeper, race the tide
An escapologist needs no key and no equipment
We, it seems, catch these intricate diseases
Where you'll find no defence against
Errors in every plan

Verse I

When you knock on the door
With the poise of a saint
When your scarf falls away with a flick and a sway,
There are suddenly reasons to wait

In a flying machine
A revelatory scene
Comes with synchronised pain and a chance to stay sane,
Throwing grappling hooks round your waist

Chorus I

Some blue hive knows where we have gone
Wait for help to come

Verse II

With a mouth for a gun
You're the deadliest one
There were three in the pride and the little one died,
It was weeks before someone realised
See it's never too late
Not to rise to the bait
Not to open your eyes to the grease and the lies,
To the stains on the theatre floor

Chorus II

Some blue hive knows where we have gone
To prowl the skies, and
Wait for help to come