| There's spring in the air,
|
| They're sweeping the streets,
|
| Wind is a breeze,
|
| The sun becomes her, he agrees.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| What's holding up her face?
|
| Nothing but blue skies,
|
| Passage ways to windows,
|
| That don't close.
|
|
| Where do you live?
|
| Love is a place,
|
| Where are you from?
|
| She says "Ask yourself, ask anyone."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Whats holding up her face?
|
| Nothing but blue eyes,
|
| Passage ways the mind's eye,
|
| Contemplate.
|
|
|
| Metric
|
|
