you are made of snowflakes, and i am two-thousand,
three hundred and forty seven degrees farenheit.
as if you'd live long enough to read the thermometer.
i can see the city below me, it's four hundred
thread count shimmering in the light of the
no way will i let you win, no way will you stand to lose.
i am swimming through space, i am swimming through
space to reach your open hands.
when i wake up, love will still be there.