歌词
Lightning strikes, thunderbolts in the night
And the helicopters sway across santa monica bay
Everyone's afraid
Handmade signs, instructions for curbside wine
Thoughts of gta, who'd notice anyway?
Should we get out, or should we stay?
I find myself holding fresh flowers
Having sourdough kisses in the golden hour
Sunflower suede and a mourning dove
A bed left unmade, always in reach of the one I love
I find myself holding fresh flowers
What's there to say? No work to be found today
No more work to lose. Just half a bottle of booze
And a sky of blue
I find myself holding fresh flowers
Having sourdough kisses in the golden hour
Sunflower suede and a mourning dove
A bed left unmade, always in reach of the one I love
I find myself holding fresh flowers
Written by: John Fonseca Fatum
