| She paints in grey
|
| And she closes her eyes
|
| 'Til fireworks and palm trees almost look alike
|
| She looks up to me and whispers
|
| «I won’t be here in a year»
|
| So I take the long road
|
| To think and wonder why
|
| I can’t sleep with all this sunlight
|
| If there’s still evidence of us
|
| Why can’t that be enough?
|
| I don’t mean to drag you down
|
| You taste just like you always do
|
| Isabelle hides, so I can’t find my way
|
| I’d give anything just to surround your dreams
|
| Oh-oh-oh
|
| The envy of the dead
|
| The sound of scissors and sleep
|
| I can’t believe you dreamed
|
| And pulled all of your clothes off
|
| You’re not supposed to drink
|
| With what’s inside your purse
|
| And not expect me not to call, call you out
|
| I’m guiding your chin to my lips
|
| Using only my fingertips
|
| All we have are parking lots and nowhere to go
|
| If you love me, then show me more
|
| Isabelle watches me from far away
|
| I’d give anything just to surround your dreams
|
| I know you like when
|
| The temperature rises to a boiling heat
|
| The chlorine and wine found
|
| He sees through her nightgown
|
| And everything fades away
|
| The stars awake
|
| But we can’t see them out, so why pretend?
|
| Is there a train
|
| That travels back to yours at 5 AM
|
| Or are we walking?
|
| Car alarms and leaves that blow
|
| They’re calling out our names
|
| But it’s gone too far
|
| Your butane mouth will spit me into flames
|
| Sorry 'bout it, I can’t help it
|
| I’m an anarchist in love
|
| And I forgot to call you
|
| I can’t break you down while I
|
| Think about honey and the sweet New York sounds
|
| Isabelle hides, so I can’t find my way
|
| I’d give anything to carry on, and on and on the same way
|
| The temperature rises to this boiling heat
|
| The chlorine and wine found
|
| He sees through her nightgown
|
| As Saturday burns away
|
| Back in the days, when I was young
|
| I’m not a kid anymore
|
| But some days, I sit and wish I was a kid again
|
| Back in the days when I was young
|
| I’m not a kid anymore
|
| But some days, I sit and wish I was a kid again |