To be making conversation with yourself
The spirit will be cleansed of its body
Perhaps you ask me
The city towers turn with the sun
The spirit will be cleansed of its body
At the top of your lungs
The city towers turn with the sun
It’s so cozy here
At the top of your lungs
The whole separated into its parts
It’s so cozy here
I need to cry all the time.
The whole separated into its parts
Perhaps you ask me
I need to cry all the time.
To be making conversation with yourself