Look at Them

It's crippling never really knowing

They're huddling where it's always nice

And plus there is a flame of frail and trippy hearts

And swallowed, being small and being still

Following where ever you will

Look at them, they're sensitive

And they inch out, look at them

And plus there is a flame of frail and trippy hearts

And swallowed, being small and being still

Following where ever you will