I was waiting at the bus stop...must stop feeling this way.
A lighthouse posted for a hungry boy lost at sea,
who, sick from riding the trough of every crashing wave,
searches for a different curve in the aqeuous linings of her gaze.
And I know the rainbows must have overslept
and dreamt up hues of soft candescnent blues
but they forgot to recheck their footsteps
and passed her without ever a clue
that somehow one color slipped their mind,
their only excuse:
"we must have painted over that line".
And now she's pulling me from my collared shirt,
twisting my buttons undone...
And I know I could slip away and make a better move
but I'de rather ride this cloud to the sun.
I was just waiting at the bus stop...
who, sick from riding the trough of every crashing wave,
searches for a different curve in the aqeuous linings of her gaze.
And I know the rainbows must have overslept
and dreamt up hues of soft candescnent blues
but they forgot to recheck their footsteps
and passed her without ever a clue
that somehow one color slipped their mind,
their only excuse:
"we must have painted over that line".
And now she's pulling me from my collared shirt,
twisting my buttons undone...
And I know I could slip away and make a better move
but I'de rather ride this cloud to the sun.
I was just waiting at the bus stop...