The Morning Sun
The curvature of your naked body
The songs you make at night
The crooked throat of an old survivor
The pain we feel when we feel free
The weekend lost on a pointless labour
Talking in your sleep
Ooh, and the shapes you're making
Ooh, and you are sleepwalking
Ooh, and you are vibrating
I listen what you're saying
I hate this place
It smells of men and death
Everything is in the air
Like a bird without a home
Ooh, and the shapes you're making

Everything is all in your mind
If you see things that way
Everything is harder to do
If you see them wrong or right
The songs you make at night
Nothing is a thing you can do
If you hold on to yourself
Nowhere is a place in the world
Where no one knows you
Nothing is a thing you can be
If you hold on to yourself
Your thing is tight
The moves you make at night
Ooh, and the shapes you're making
Ooh, and you are sleepwalking
Ooh, and you are vibrating
I listen what you're saying
The morning sun is a soft reminder
The graceful arc of a kind word
The curvature of your naked body
The songs you make at night
Ooh, and the shapes you're making
Ooh, and you are sleepwalking
Ooh, and the shapes you're making

Ooh, and you are vibrating
I listen what you're saying
Ooh, and the shapes you're making
Ooh, and you are sleepwalking
Ooh, and you are vibrating
I listen what you're saying
Ooh, and the shapes you're making
Oh, when you are sleepwalking
Oh, when you are vibrating
Oh, when you are vibrating
Oh, when you are vibrating