Flyng With Her Wings
Buddahead
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She played the ladder of my ribs
And wrapped her feet under these sheets.
She fell asleep in her ripped up jeans,
Deep in marmalade coloured dreams.
Now I'm flying with her wings
'Cause I'm trying to see the world that she sees.
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The sound of her at dawn wakes me up
and puts a smile on me before the sun is out.
Now I'm flying with her wings
'Cause I'm trying to see the world that she sees.