I’m slipping through And she keeps flowing Floating thoughts of her It has to be her body…
Her tattoos and silent eyes Carry me through internal conflicts She doesn’t know, and she has no idea That she’s the cause of these discussions Every time I picture her towel Wrapped around her head Instead of her body being covered She covers her wet hair
I’m slipping through And she keeps flowing Floating thoughts of her It has to be her body… I’m imagining the best parts of her Sides of her that she expresses This feels too much like a calling It has to be her body…
It doesn’t work when I tell myself Tomorrow, I will pretend not to know you “Let’s go home” I always think about saying I miss out on so much Locking myself away for you