Слова
My posture's getting bad
Am I really up this late again?
Ain't afraid of this big world
But of the small one that's inside my head
What you do to me can only be described
In the alien jewelry hanging in the sky
Oh my
This world is getting flat
No I haven't left the house in days
I wish that you were here
There'd be nothing for me to replace
What you do to me can only be described
In the alien jewelry hanging in the sky
Oh my
What you do to me can only be described
In the alien jewelry hanging in the sky
Oh my
Writer(s): John Henry Ryan
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