she¡¯s all weak and her heart beats so
|
she can¡¯t speak with the lights so low
|
|
just to be one of a crowd
|
feet scuttling across the floor
|
spinning lights round and round
|
it¡¯s adolescent war
|
|
she craves noise and the music blares
|
girl calls to a boy (and my heart is true, oh to you)
|
he just stands and stares
|
|
just to be one of a crowd
|
feet scuttling across the floor
|
spinning lights round and round
|
and it¡¯s adolescent war
|
shoes grind kick like crazy
|
and arms tangling up with hair
|
shaking them up and down again
|
and hearts pounding everywhere
|
|
she slows down
|
has the music gone
|
or has she stayed too long?
|
|
-----------------
|
she
|
| Sundays |
