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I am starting to sense your location |
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You are somewhere in the attic |
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Looking something close to tragic |
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Knitting t-shirts and your mattress |
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I'm floating on the stairwell |
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With my toes grazing the cedar |
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Thinking softly what a tinder box we live in... |
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And what a flammable heart I've been given |
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You could be in several different places |
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I am sensing your location |
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I am starting to sense your location |
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You are somewhere in the basement |
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Beating on a makeshift drum kit |
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Songs that I can hardly stomach |
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I'm floating on the stairwell |
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With my fingers shaking frantic |
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Thinking softly what a concrete mess we live in... |
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And what a ice box heart I've been given |
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You could be in several different places |
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I am sensing your location |
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You could be in several different places |
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I am starting to sense your locale now |
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I am to starting to sense your location |
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In in an old abandoned mansion |
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In a country side of England |
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Spirits trapped inside the linens |
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And you're feeling quite at home there |
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Also feeling somewhat lonely |
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No one sees you in your pixelated fish nets |
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And your black and orange beret |
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You could be in several different places |
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I am sensing your location |
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You could be in several different places |
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I am starting to sense your locale now |
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Oh please believe the ghost in me |
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Is doing what I can to find you out |
