Weeks are just numbers
 And numbers are nothing more then [bad word] stars
 Reveal my disposition as I hit the floor
 This distance won't label us
 Mask imprints left behind by fortunetellers
 Our vital bed lay grounded
 You will never label us
 Provocateur of turquoise ballets
 Pedestal to adulation
 Lucent skies from your eyes bleed gorgeousness
 Take my hand
 We'll always be joined at the skin I give you my word
 My love some words [bad word] here
 I am the one fearing open parachutes
 But if you jump [bad word] right after you
 Tonight we dine on each other
 Tonight we dine on each other's sound
 Tonight it will always be in our hands
 If life tends to keep us apart, I'll cradle myself into you