She texts from the Exit and says she's on her way over
In an ocelot coat with the epaulet shoulders
It's sweet, 'cause I'm a sucker for the dictator chic
And I'm good with the irregular heartbeats
So now she's hanging with me

And we've been sharing ideas
And it seems like we've got similar interests
And it seems like we've got similar problems
I think we know the same people
I think I know what she means

She says she loves the way these little flames
Make everything all black and grey
But sometimes all that smoke can make you sick
Still a scorch mark, or a blistered hand
Seems a whole lot better than
Sitting around and waiting for the click

Her parents are in Paris
It's the best place we can access, yeah
It's not exactly sanctioned, man, but she's still got a key
She's travelling at top speed
She keeps checking her heartbeat
She puts her thumb to her neck

Then she kicks off her moccasins
The buck skin always sucks me in
Sets up in the restroom
Says she's never coming out
Unraveling the bandages
Using all the toothbrushes
She's crying 'cause the cotton looks like clouds

Delores, don't the clouds just get forgotten
Once a stronger wind comes in we both know what'll happen
We'll dissipate, we'll disappear
And neon cigs, and made them spears
Call the guy, you need a Long Manhattan
All the things that we hold dear
Our favorite bands, our deepest fears
We both know exactly what'll happen

'Cause every time the clouds roll in
You can't get sentimental
And her jacket makes her look just like a general
And she's generally restless
She's got the blistering hands
Sent a text from the Ex that says she's on her way over
In an ocelot coat with the epaulet shoulders

Copyright: Songtrust Ave
Writer(s): Craig A Finn, Franz Nicolay, Tad Jason Kubler