It was the summer of your Gemini wedding.
Told me you didn't want to live in your body.
Made me to thank everyone for coming.
Grabbed their gifts and go.
The world finally reasoned spinning.
You tried to peek over the edge.
Made me to let you down easy before the vertigo kicked in.
Spent our Easter at the Mall of America.
Still not sure why we tried.
Wanted to ride out all my
mania before I left.
The coaster car was climbing.
I hung my head over the edge.
If the fall would go down easy,
then I could picture sinking in.
Wish I could live my life
until I got it right.
I always swear I'll change
and then I act surprised.
I'll probably sort myself out
when I'm out
of time.
Wish I could live my life
until I got it right.
I always swear I'll change
and then I act surprised.
I'll probably sort myself out
when I'm out of time.