High - Brisa Roche

Your skin in the smoke of the wood, dinner hour

Makes me high under the violet sky-tower

Look all around us, the cut plants regrow

Leaning like me to get close to your glow

Even in the city there’s a rhythm

And it’s by this beat that we are driven

One, two, three, four, I still want more

When my planet turns on, I will triple in size

As a gesture explaining my love for your eyes

Little star-beats that wander and hide in the air

Tumble drunk just like me in the scent of your hair

Even in the city there’s a rhythm

And it’s by this beat that we are driven

One, two, three, four, I still want more

The feathers that I found might have been yours or mine

Invisibly silver on dry grass and vine

And the sweater and Tee-shirt I found at the shore

Are still soaked with the salt from our dancing before

Even in the city there’s a rhythm

And it’s by this beat that we are driven

One, two, three, four, I still want more

Seven, eight, nine, give me more time