Clouds crash on the hillside.
Set to sail your soul at high tide.
High time you left that shadow,
dead weight in the meadow.
Let it follow far below.

Oh, Oh, Oh

Whoa, what a ceiling!
All the angels cracked and peeling,
revealing constellations,
one day you will name one,
after a boy you knew
when you were back in middle school
and ingrained his name in love notes,
everyone retained though,
in a box, behind your raincoats.

Oh, those days
Where rainy days meant
Traces, Faces, Raindrops made when
Racing cross the windshield
The pace of life wasn't real
Oh, though how we quicken
how the slope began to slicken
you slip into a grim then,
begin with where you've been and
in my linen you are skin again.

La da da
La da da da da daa
Da da daa
Da daa daa
La da da daa da da daa daa

Oh, oh, clouds crash on the hillside.
Set to sail your soul at high tide.
High time you left that shadow,
dead weight in the meadow.
In my linen you are skin again.