Golden Hour

Macseal

Compositor: Não Disponível

My skin sticks to your bed
The fan is nothing but noise, nothing but noise
I swear my sweaty hands have typed a bunch of words on my phone
But none of them make much sense

’Till I charmingly sing them out of key
To you on some random night
’Till the Sun dips beneath your window
And you tell me you'll be alright

And we’ll all pretend to be okay

Where did I go wrong? The air is getting thinner
Where do we get off? I’ve been blessed with a level head
And my flat feet will keep me grounded in the thought I might go ahead
And my body will keep me grounded in my bed