At the Artist's Leisure, Pt. 2

She has a way of sitting in cold puddles A reach away from hanging on A breeze between the cracks And she takes a nice warm sip The winter drops of cold vanilla Rolling coming down her lungs The wind slips beneath the reaches of the bold and the blinding days The wind that knocks you off your feet You don't go to sleep at night Yeah you lay there with your eyes peeled and wide at the ceiling You don't go to sleep at night Yeah you lay there with your eyes peeled and wide at the ceiling You don't go to sleep at night Yeah you lay there with your eyes peeled and wide at the ceiling Opening her eyes to the old main in Florence He walks between the scene and makes a path all his own A moment's glance it might seem ordinary without the colors But he holds a moment filled and floating in her eyes It's enough to see the canvas between the border To ease the embers in the eyes You don't go to sleep at night Yeah you lay there with your eyes peeled and wide at the ceiling You don't go to sleep at night Yeah you lay there with your eyes peeled and wide at the ceiling You don't go to sleep at night Yeah you lay there with your eyes peeled and wide at the ceiling