You can give them the world and show them how they shine,
you can read love and meaning into every line,
but if the author of the script doesn't see you together,
let cornflowers grow over it and you will be better

The problem is you want a sensation
You're searching for sensations like they're the only reason to be alive
You need to lift your head up to something that is greater than you can imagine
You choose to wonder about a mystery that you will never solve rather than cherishing the mystery that is inside you

I don't have the power anymore to hope
Everyday i'm hoping that you're going to understand that i can be your sensation
I am a mermaid that was sent to guard you for the rest of your life and everyone can't help it but listen to my songs except you
I can't look you in the eye anymore while knowing that you're throwing away the greatest gift you ever received

Someday you're going to realize that a sensation is nothing but the shadow of a door crack
You're going to turn around and expect me to be more than that
but your mind has already turned me into something that you can use to outrun your fear of being alone

I don’t know why i’m reminiscing,
but you remind me of last summer
the sun is gently stroking your roof
while i think of my dark lover

The light blue crumbling facade
gives me the pain of longing
for a home that makes me wonder
if i’ll see another morning

It’s an eerie mystery
why i prefer a thunderstorm
the erratic and the uncanny
over a sacred place of warmth

I want your roof to be blown off,
i want to scream and cry
for i know love needs to be rough
like nature is sublime

All the boys are beautiful shadows with razors in their lungs
we want to be chosen by their gem stone eyes
but they’re scared to be beaten

They have forbidden bottles under their beds
pretty boys with herbs in their sleeves
adventures on their eyelids

Seeing the pain of the world and being forced to look away
all they know is to worship the nights
avoiding everything painful

There’s a beautiful secret lying on the tip of their tongue
we hear the same voices in our heads
still our softness stays a threat

We’re outlawed and hunted by them like witches
they’re intimidated by our richness
craving to touch our waists