| short sleeves and warm skin | |
| losing coins calling next of kin | |
| dropping words about the city were in | |
| ponds compressed by heavy air | |
| us without care just sprawling there | |
| gods in our world | |
| airports and undergrounds | |
| waiting to find the unfound | |
| rising to pure insanity | |
| here when you want me | |
| true love has no simplicity | |
| gods in our world | |
| you and i were going so high | |
| the air is getting thin | |
| our land does not breathe in | |
| we don't need oxygen | |
| its dreams that bind us and locks us in | |
| the rest are impaled by sense | |
| you and i were going so high | |
| the air is getting thin | |
| our land does not breathe in | |
| we don't need oxygen | |
| its dreams that bind us and locks us in | |
| the rest are impaled by sense |
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