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All I need is to spot the dancers arcMade from your hand to your fingertipsThen I know it's you.So as we wander from clique to cliqueGet smothered in insignificance,Just passing through.In the bedlam, I search for that familiar arc to catch your wrist.We'll tower in grins, too far ahead for them to ever close in.What's secondhand to us is new to everyone elseA slow aspiration.Enjoying our time spent snared in the dissentA slow quiet strum.In the bedlam, I search for that familiar arc to catch your wrist.With bottomless brow lines, pale eyes, and thin skinWe'll tower in grins, too far ahead for them to ever close in. Aus Songtexte Mania