my world is firmly compressed into the pocket of your front breast.
we pass over cities and towns collapsed in hopes that people find amusement amongst the depressed.

what you say goes and your sight beats everyone elses.
and we all know we've already won, by numbers.
and we all know we've already won, by numbers.
and we all know we've already won, by numbers.

once in a while while looking on, the lamposts glide they dance along.

the pivot and sway to street named flare while light shone shed by orion glare.

watching the ground move quickly past, the car is stopped and i'm out of gas must be my fault.

whatever you say is correct by me because all of what a say is a cat in a tree. i can't get it down. i can't get it down.

the doubt breaks inside me as you let me down from your giant's pockets onto the ground.

you're a taker of vanities a stealer of games, now show me a night when us both can be same.

your world, i want your world.

it's your world, i want your world.

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