S.O.S.

I'm calling S.O.S. I'm feeling kind of blessed I've got my windows down in my cabrio seat I feel the wind on my chest My heart is burning fast For the love that you show like you've never before I'm still your secret though It makes sense with no capacity To blurt it out like it's nothing to you Nothing to you, nothing, nothing to you It makes sense self-proclaimed prophecy Is stopping you from taking it into your hands Take it into, take it, take it into your hands I've found my way through You're on searching mode I'm confronted by the same old story, 'been on that road Oh the days go by, it's still you and I But I can't help feeling, I can't help feeling like I a lie It makes sense with no capacity To blurt it out like it's nothing to you Nothing to you, nothing, nothing to you It makes sense self-proclaimed prophecy Is stopping you from taking it into your hands Take it into, take it, take it into your hands Take it into your hands, take it into your hands Take it into your hands, into your hands Take it into your hands, take it into your hands Take it into your hands, into your hands Take it into your hands, take it into your hands Take it into your hands, into your hands Take it into your hands, take it into your hands Take it into your hands I'm calling S.O.S. I'm feeling kind of blessed I've got my windows down in my cabrio seat I feel the wind on my chest My heart is burning fast For the love that you show like you've never before I'm still your secret though