I spin the clock backwards andmake it stop between two and three because you and me,
You and me be flying past the hands of time as they try to grasp our wings
And cripple our dreams, hour future, hour past, hour present, hour now.
12 o'clock chases us around threatening to take out the batteries that run our love.
But he be ignorant to the fact that we are So-lar and do not rely on bases to make us run.
Run to the sun with the wings of Icarus, the son.
Ours don't melt for it is constructed with the future.
And no one can erode the future cause you're too far behind to see in front of you,
Blinded by the words of your peers telling you to do this, to do that,
Controlled and surrounded by machine puppeteers.
I stick to the essentials and the roots for everything.
I grab her hand and ride on the winds of ecstasy,
Soaring over the cant's and shouldn'ts and all the oppressions and obstructions.
I close my eyes and feel her heartbeats synchronize with time.
The beats of our passion and the hums of our love make the philharmonic run for its money.
She closes her eyes and her expression paints a picture of her love.
Her eyelashes stroke the lines and the curves on the canvas of our dreams.
And the colours so [vibrnt], so inviting, her emotion permeating from the pores of her soul.
The hues blends with the me's and they dance together eternally in the sunburnt sky.