Like the leaves at my face
|
He is a victim of gravity
|
The unbearable colour of things
|
Gets him down
|
|
And as his raincoat covers me
|
We know it was never raining
|
|
Sorry it was me
|
Was I thinking out loud
|
Sorry it was me
|
Was I thinking out loud
|
Sorry it was me
|
Was I thinking out loud
|
Sorry it was me
|
Was I thinking out loud
|
|
Like strings in a fan
|
The shoelaces aren't done
|
The solitude reflection of his face
|
Gets him down
|
|
And as the shadow covers me
|
I thought he was only sleeping
|
|
Sorry it was me
|
Was I thinking out loud
|
Sorry it was me
|
Was I thinking out loud
|
Sorry it was me
|
Was I thinking out loud
|
Sorry it was me
|
Was I thinking out loud
|
|
His clothes on the floor
|
Under a silver light
|
The smell of lavender and tar
|
Brings me down
|
|
If the telephone should ring
|
God knows it could never be him
|
|
Sorry it was me
|
Was I thinking out loud
|
Sorry it was me
|
Was I thinking out loud
|
Sorry it was me
|
Was I thinking out loud
|
Sorry it was me
|
Was I thinking out loud
|
|
-----------------
|
Thinking Out Loud
|
| Emiliana Torrini |
