Ingrid Michaelson

Glass

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Rolled around on kitchen floors
Tied my tongue in pretty bows with yours
And now we pass and just like glass
I see through you, you see through me like I'm not there

You could make my head swerve
Used to know my every curve
And now we meet on a street,
And I am blind, I can not find the heart I gave to you

Sometimes what we think we really want we don't
Sometimes what we think we want we really don't
Sometimes what we think we love we don't

And I am blind. I can not find the heart I gave to you
And when we meet on a street,
Then I am blind, I can not find the heart I gave to you


Autor(es): Ingrid Michaelson

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