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