Over us are crayons and Whiteboards,
Waiting for the sun to decide,
Who shot the moon and the starlines above?
Is it me or the man with the gun? All the eyes are pointed at his direction
Keeps me from falling aside While they talked about us with worries
I caught the flight to your head,
Tried to see the cons of tomorrow instead
Singing natural blues while in bed. All the eyes are pointed at my direction
Keeps him from falling aside HANG ON.
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