Well you know I don't like you but you wanna be my friend
|
Well, there are bodies on the ceiling and they're fluttering their wings
|
It's ok I'm angry
|
But you'll never understand
|
When you dream of Michelangelo
|
They hang above your hands
|
|
And I know that she is not my friend
|
And I know cause there she goes
|
Walking on my skin again
|
|
And I can't why you'd want to talk to me
|
When your vision of America is crystalline and clean
|
I want a white bread life
|
Just something ignorant and plain,
|
But from the walls of Michelangelo I'm dangling again
|
|
And I know that she is not my friend
|
And I know cause there she goes
|
Walking on my skin again and again
|
|
Saturn on a line
|
A sun afire on strings and wires
|
To spin above my head and make it right
|
But any time you like
|
You can catch a sight of angel eyes all emptiness and infinite
|
|
And I dream of Michelangelo when I'm lying in my bed
|
I see god upon the ceiling I see angels overhead
|
And he seems so close as he reaches out his hand
|
But we are never quite as close as we are led to understand
|
|
And I know that she is not my friend
|
And I know cause there she goes
|
Walking on my skin again and again
|
|
-----------------
|
When I Dream Of Michelangelo
|
| Counting Crows |
