Like a nice dust in the eye
small stone on the bottom of a shoe
like a wick captivated in the wax
I'm thinking of you
If I could, I'd crash the stone
and the eyes would wash all the sadness
and yarns attached to the flame
have to burn
if you're having me on your conscience
and have no one to build home with
and if you're having me on your conscience
believe me, dear, i dont care
I'm kissing other ones, and i dont feel
every touch is like I'm getting up
on a frozen leg
without love, hope, without you
it's not working