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Skin off like lightning
Breathing flames from thoraces tray
Your eyes go quite frightening
You lock your gaze onto my face

Heavy eyed
Crawling on the roadside
Swinging from the street lights

I hope by the morning I will have grown back
By the morning I will have grown back

I'll escape with him
Show him all my skin
Then I'll go, I'll go home
Amsterdam

I'm a flying kite in the breeze just
Restlessly seeking images a child needs to help them sleep
I've been thinking that I should see someone
Just to find out if I'm alright

By the morning I will have grown back
By the morning I will have grown back

I'll escape with him
Show him all my skin
Then I'll go, I'll go home
Amsterdam

I used to dream of adventure
When I was younger with lungs miniature
But now we're killing our brain cells
Is this called living or something else?

By the morning I will have grown back
By the morning I will have grown back

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