She has a way of sitting in cold puddles
a reach away from hanging on
A breeze between the cracks
And she takes a nice warm sip
The frosty drios of cold vanilla
rolling softly down her lungs
The wind slips beneath the reaches of the bold and the blinding days
The wind that knocks you off your feet
You don't go asleep at night
Yeah you lay there with your eyes peeled and wide at the ceiling
Opening her eyes to the old main in Florence
He walks between the scene and makes a path all his own
At a glance it might seem ordinary without the colors
But the man holds a moment filled and floating in her eyes
It's enoughto see the canvas between the border
to ease the embers in the eyes
You don't go to sleep at night
Yeah you lay there with your eyes peeled and wide at the ceiling