Bad luck runs in circles and corridors
Face so soft it hurts always, corridors
Always seems like something
Trip and don't come clean
Corridors and signals
Never have the means

All the skies are turning grey
I love your style
Your cool imperfections
All the while you turn away

Melancholy surface, corridors
Eyes so bright they hurt, corridors
Days turn to nothing
Standing on a pier
Corridors and signals never come too clear

All the skies are turning grey
I love your style
Your cool imperfections
All the while you turn away

All the skies are turning grey
I love your style
Your cool imperfections
All the while you turn away

All the skies are turning grey
I love your style
Your cool imperfections
All the while you turn away

You turn around
You turn around