Her voice it reaches into me,
hooks me like a desperate fish.
She's singing songs of Ireland,
such a saucy creamy dish.
Seafood chowder by the sea,
a sense of you, a sense of me.
All the things we're gonna see,
everything we're gonna be
Out the window, rolling waves,
rolling round upon the floor.
Her mind is like a hidden cave,
leaves me craving, wanting more.
The wind, the rain,
our twisted brains.
The way she moves,
the way she sways.
Lost within Octobers days.
Lost with every word we say.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
Her voice it reaches into me,
hooks me like a desperate fish.
She's singing songs of Ireland,
such a saucy creamy dish.
Seafood chowder by the sea,
a sense of you, a sense of me.
All the things we're gonna see,
everything we're gonna be
Out the window, rolling waves,
rolling round upon the floor.
Her mind is like a hidden cave,
leaves me craving, wanting more.
The wind, the rain,
our twisted brains.
The way she moves,
the way she sways.
Lost within Octobers days.
Lost with every word we say.
