Rolling up paper, burning it down to my lips
Spacing out faces was never my kind of fix
I buried my head in my phone, so I wasn't left on my own
And it worked for a minute
But time slipped away, and you quietly paid me a visit
You held out your hand
Made me the man I wished I could be
Now I, I'm high on you
And I, I'm high on you
On you
Lately, I walk through the streets of the busiest places
And look where I walk, where I used to look down at my laces
You held out your hand
Made me the man I wished I could be
Now I, I'm high on you
I, I'm high on you
Rolling up paper, burning it down to my lips
Spacing out faces will never be my kind of fix
