morning gray ignites a twisted mess of foreign shapes and sounds
i wish the ceiling was the ground
i'll send you flowers made of silent tiny pieces of the sun
to help me make up for this one
while you send me tidal waves of love when you're alone
and i can't remember what you do
to find a way to turn the signal back to heaven sounding blue
and bring me faithful back to you
and she don't hold me right, she's never going to get me there
not tonight
if we break off gently in slow motion, spinning outward into space
my hand always floating gently at the wheel while you sweetly hold my face
and i need you to give it meaning, i need you to share the view
or it becomes a time for me to love myself like every other thing i do
i wish the ceiling was the ground
i'll send you flowers made of silent tiny pieces of the sun
to help me make up for this one
while you send me tidal waves of love when you're alone
and i can't remember what you do
to find a way to turn the signal back to heaven sounding blue
and bring me faithful back to you
and she don't hold me right, she's never going to get me there
not tonight
if we break off gently in slow motion, spinning outward into space
my hand always floating gently at the wheel while you sweetly hold my face
and i need you to give it meaning, i need you to share the view
or it becomes a time for me to love myself like every other thing i do
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