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A bird flies out |
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And over the rooftops |
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Down past the cars in my line of view. |
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It's a strange beginning |
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Comic and awkward grace |
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In a picture, on the table |
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I'm in a red dress |
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Waiting for a reason |
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Holding a tightly packed suitcase |
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Maybe I'm too jaded to love somebody like you. |
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Maybe I want to love my dream that'll never come true. |
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Someone who is real, oh, gets in the way |
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And moves inside my heart, not just my head |
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Interfering with how I want to feel |
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How do I want to feel |
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How do I want to feel |
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I wonder |
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You could be water to me |
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I might be wine |
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The stars have all faded here |
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They give us no sign |
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Is this the right time? |
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The smoke curls up and ribbons the air away |
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From my nervous fingers. |
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Cigarette sputters, a tired reluctant burn |
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In a picture, on the table |
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You are a driver peering past the moment |
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Holding the wheel until it turns |
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Maybe I'm too jaded to love somebody like you. |
|
Maybe I want to love my dream that'll never come true |
|
Someone who is real gets in the way |
|
And moves inside my heart, not just my head |
|
Interfering |
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With how I want to feel |
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How do I want to feel |
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I wonder |
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How do I want to feel |
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How do we want to feel |
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How do we want to feel |
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I wonder |
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I wonder |
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I wonder... |
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Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh... |
