Originally by: The Postal Service

I am thinking it's a sign
That the freckles in our eyes are mirror images
And when we kiss they're perfectly aligned
I have to speculate
That God himself did make
Us into corresponding shapes
Like puzzle pieces from the clay
 [bad word]  it may seem like a stretch
But its thoughts like this that catch
My troubled head when you're away
When I am missing you to death
When you are out there on the road
For several weeks it shows
And when you scan the radio
I hope this song will guide you home

They won't see us waving from such great heights, [bad word] down now", they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away, [bad word] down now", but we'll stay...

I tried my best to leave
This all on your machine
But the persistent beat it sounded thin
Upon listening
And that frankly will not fly
You will hear the shrillest highs
And lowest lows with the windows down
When this is guiding you home

They won't see us waving from such great heights, [bad word] down now", they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away [bad word] down now", but we'll stay...

(music)

They won't see us waving from such great heights, [bad word] down now", they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away [bad word] down now", but we'll stay...

(They won't see us waving from such great heights, [bad word] down now", they'll say
They won't see us waving from such great heights)