You turned up more than once in my head
With a face lit up starved and distorted
We are held together we are vicarious things
You hold me tight when you know they’re watching
You turned up more than once in my bed
A spinning star: Wayward. Blinded.
From the slow turn of the tide
We may conceal but we dare not hide
If we can find our way through this
If I can find my fingertips
One day we will be close to worth it.
You turned up more than once in my head
With a face lit up starved, distorted
We are bound together we are vicarious things
Hold me tight, you know they’re watching
If we can find our way through this
If I can find my fingertips
One day we will be close to worth it.