Salt

I can taste the salt on my own skin

I didn’t cry for you

Everything is turning blue

I’ve had enough of the moon

I can taste the salt on my own skin

I didn’t cry for you

Everything is turning blue

I’ve had enough of the moon

Am I drinking too much ? Honey never tasted sweeter. Will you keep her?

These ordinary things, like peeling an orange, when I wake up alone

We should take it slow, coming back to what we know

It grows, It grows, it grows