| The raindrops falling on the taxi window
|
| Looks like a thousand stars
|
| Now I am running in and out of bars
|
| Born so far apart
|
| Yet now I find myself
|
| Washed in on your shore
|
| With eyes seeing the world
|
| Through the fact that it’s here
|
| It can’t be love
|
| But I’m longing for your body
|
| So much, my hands feel like burning with desire
|
| Sometimes my hands are grasping to steal
|
| Sometimes my hands are grasping to steal
|
| To steal, to steal, to steal, to steal
|
| The passage of time eventually raise the heaviest of anchors
|
| One night she flung to pieces, and the pieces hit the floor
|
| With a spectacle they recoiled
|
| Flung into my skin
|
| Somewhat candescent
|
| Somewhere therein
|
| In the fact that it’s here
|
| It can’t be love
|
| But I’m longing for your body
|
| So much, my hands feel like burning with desire
|
| Sometimes my hands are begging to grab
|
| Sometimes my hands are begging to grab
|
| To grab, to grab
|
| Sometimes my hands are yearning to hold
|
| Sometimes my hands are yearning to hold
|
| To hold, to hold, to hold, to hold
|
| Charging like a bull into Achilles' heel
|
| Charging like a bull into Achilles' heel
|
| If somebody owns you just got to steal
|
| Charging like a bull into Achilles' heel
|
| Blacked out restraints are dying away
|
| Forgotten concerns of rate of pay
|
| If somebody owns you just got to steal
|
| Charging like a bull into Achilles' heel
|
| Feel it
|
| Feel it
|
| Feel it
|
| Feel it |