If I could change my disposition from melancholic to sanguine
I'd be a fine specimen to lay your hands upon and sigh
Thanks to moon-speckled faces and chaotic worlds
That probably exist without me.

I'd paint my house blue and we'd just live, me and you
In azure drenched rooms where the sky comes through.

And at night you'll hold me and if it's cold
I'd braid my hair around you and fold
My fingers into little papery suns and stars
To keep darkness away.