Amsterdam
Skin off like lightningBreathing flames from thoraces trayYour eyes go gray findingYou lock your gaze on to my face
Heavy eye clothing on the roadsideSwinging from the street lights
I hope by the morning I will have grown backBy the morning I will have grown backI'll escape with himShow him all my skinThen I'll goI'll go homeAmsterdam
I'm a flying kite in the breeze justRestlessly seeking images a child needs to help them sleepI was thinking that I should see someoneJust to find out that I'm alright
By the morning I would've grown backBy the morning I would've grown backI'll escape with himShowing all my skinThen I'll goI'll go homeAmsterdam
I used to dream ofAdventureWhen I was youngerWith lungs miniatureGood night with killingOur brain cellsIs this called livingOr something elseOr something else
By the morning I would've grown backBy the morning I would've grown backBy the morning I would've grown backBy the morning I would've grown back