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I am thinking it's a sign |
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that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images |
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and when we kiss they're perfectly aligned |
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And I have to speculate |
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that God himself did make us into corresponding shapes |
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like puzzle pieces from the clay |
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True, it may seem like a stretch, |
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but its thoughts like this that catch my troubled |
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Head when you're away and I am missing you to death |
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When you are out there on the road |
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for several weeks of shows and when you scan |
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The radio, I hope this song will guide you home |
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They will see us waving from such great |
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Heights, 'come down now', they'll say |
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But everything looks perfect from far away, |
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'come down now', but we'll stay... |
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I tried my best |
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to leave this all on your machine |
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but the persistent beat it sounded thin upon listening |
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That frankly will not fly |
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you will hear the shrillest highs and lowest lows |
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with the windows down when this is guiding you home |
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They will see us waving from such great |
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Heights, 'come down now', they'll say |
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But everything looks perfect from far away, |
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'come down now', but we'll stay... |
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(2x) |
