I wanna make out to the sound that glasses make

When they hit the floor

I wanna make out to the sound that knuckles make

Repulsive sound

I wanna make out the shape of a star

On the cold winter sky

In sensational fireworks

Bitter breath

In the turn of paper

And the wind of regret

I wanna make out to the the drops in the sink

That we broke before

I wanna make out to the hue of the breathless waves

When they crash to the ground

I wanna make out the smell of cars

On this busy night

In sensational fireworks

Bitter breath

In the turn of paper

And the wind of regret

In sensational fireworks

Bitter breath

In the turn of paper

And the wind of regret