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What was I missing back when we rubbed shoulders?
That we could be perfect fit?
Was there a lesson hidden under boulders?
Was i expected to lift it?
Too many people lookin' in the window
How can we think anymore
And if the devil is a diligent farmer
He's gonna knock at the door
And on the days I wondered how we'ld get there
I must have felt a kind of bliss
But when we build suspension and it lingers
There could be something to be missed
Your had a vision of a delicate timbre
to math the beauty with suspense
so much that in the days of grandiose thunder
There was no place it could exist
How could we be a perfect fit?
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